Dying Light: The Descent
by Vickie1
Summary: Kyle Crane is back but not entirely the same 'man'. The Hero of Harran has found himself as a sentient infected in the city of Scanderoon. He shouldn't be back. But having met Jack Brecken and learning that the virus has changed over the past week has made him decide to take up the mantle again but from the shadows. Regrettably but this time, not alone. (DLC to the Following)
1. PILOT: WELCOME TO SCANDEROON

**DYING LIGHT**

 **THE DESCENT**

* * *

Summary: The Tower had gone too quiet for weeks now. With no response over the radio, an ex-champion kickboxer named Mad Jack decides to drop by the Slums to check on family. Unfortunately for her, she is forced to make a pitstop right into the Coast of Scanderoon, the next door city to Harran and now overrun with the infected.

If she wants to stay alive in this city, Jack's gonna have to make buddies while 'studying' the zombies. But she also can't let anyone know the little side project she's been tasked with or the other secrets she has. No one outside the Ravs should know. Not even her cousin.

What's more, something predatory is lurking behind her, following far too close to her shadow...

* * *

 **PROLOGUE ARC: WELCOME TO SCANDEROON**

* * *

 **PILOT**

"I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both."

 **― Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde**

* * *

"First I'll kill you, bitch."

The vials were the answer. They had to be!

No, they were the cure! That cult leader lunatic was talking out of her ass. Only one way out? Turn on that nuke and kill off millions to save billions? No, like fucking hell was he gonna do that!

Enough of losing more lives because 'the ends justify the means'. Enough of losing friends around him!

Enough was enough!

He was done with this voodoo, higher morale shit! He was finished with following orders!

The weakened runner scrambled to the thin vials of dark-blue liquid.

"...And save my friends…"

Get the vials, get out, and get back to the Tower.

"And you can rot in hell."

Kyle Crane had his goal set in stone. People depended on him, on these vials making their way home. There didn't have to be any more sacrifices!

So much has happened to him over the couples weeks - since the day he parachuted down to Harran, got bitten and was thrown into the thralls of the Harran Virus outbreak. Where the dead rose on their feet and attacked in the modern century. For days, he watched, he fought, he survived and his entire journey led him to a hidden place called the Countryside, on the rumor that the people there weren't affected by the virus.

And during his time there, he had learned a lot - more than what he anticipated. What he had wanted to know. Things escalated for the worse, like it always has for him until he dealt the final blow at his enemy inside this hidden research facility.

But he didn't come out of the fight unscathed. Something was wrong with his head. Something wasn't right with his legs. It was fatigue, wasn't it? He barely got out of there alive!

It was all right. The battle was over. His long journey could finally end and it could be over with the outbreak! There was nothing stopping him now: no Rais' men, no infected, not even the Mother. She was dead for good and he could save everyone back at the Tower!

He wanted to laugh out loud. But he had a job to do. He had to keep his mind focus! Focus! You know what you have to do, he told himself. Everyone was counting on him!

He picked one vial. Two. Then a third for good measures. Once he confirmed he had all three in his hip pouch, he was off, tumbling his way for an exit.

But things were making it hard on him. Or was it himself? The walls around him blurred into a dizzy, sickening soup. He was almost swimming in it and yet some leftover willpower ushered him to keep going. _No. Don't stop._ He couldn't afford a short rest.

Then the visions flashed.

He was gone under for a couple of minutes, watching the faces violently snarl at him. Try to kill him. They were enraged with him for leaving them behind. For abandoning them! But his body kept going. Once he surfaced back up to reality, he found himself clumsily wobbling into some white containers. Somewhere else.

 _"You can't change anything, Kyle."_

This didn't feel right. He couldn't put his finger on why. This dizziness was taking far longer than he expected, along with this killer headache.

"What's happening to me?"

 _"You'll see for yourself…"_

The colors were wrapping around him into shiny spheres. Again, he went down. Like drowning at the bottom of the ocean and he was clawing back up for a breath of air. A set of old mattresses softened his lumbering fall.

"I… I killed you! I fucking killed you!"

Where was she? Where?! He'd find her and do it again if he had to!

 _"This is a poison…"_

"It's not a poison!" His anger died out quickly as he desperately pulled out a vial. It was confirmation to himself, just to calm himself down from losing to insanity. "It's a cure!"

Again, he squeezed his fingers on the vial. It was real. Not an illusion! This was it: the answer to everything!

"Lena?" he called over the line after keeping the vial away. "Lena, I'm coming back with the medicine. We'll be able to help everyone now! Tell Camden that he has all the time in the world… No! Tell him that we have a new lead… A better one…"

Again, he went under. The flashes were getting worst. When he breathed back up, he was by a barricade of blue containers. He heaved himself over them to spot a ray of hope gushing down a manhole.

A way out. A ladder, at the end of the tunnel. Out of this damp sewage.

With all the determination he had left, Crane pushed himself onwards. Ignore all the one-second faces going by. The masks, the symbols, the crazy fanatics, fuck all of them. They were history. That damn Mother voice in his head was just the after-effect from having his brain smashed up inside - that was all. Because she was silent now, no more whispering.

Replaced by something else. He couldn't hear it but it was somewhere at the back of his mind.

A scratch. It hadn't been there before, had it?

 _Just go, Crane. Get out._

Out into the light.

* * *

Once the delirious runner was up on the surface, everything was relatively clear in his head. The blurriness had stopped and he found himself like waking up from a bad dream and dropping into a surreal one.

The manhole he crept out from was at the edge of a playground. Wherever this place was, it wasn't another location with the undead hiding in the tall crops or dead carcasses littering the streets. It was a sunny peaceful afternoon for a cozy suburban area with well-cut lawns behind picket fences.

No zombies. No cries of help. No outbreak.

The only stirring of movement Crane saw was a car driving by and that at the playground. Playing by the jungle gym were two kids while an adult - their mother - was watching nearby.

"Where am I?"

It felt alien to Kyle. After everything he had gone through, everything in the Slums and the Countryside, none of this felt real to him. It was as if he had been dropped into a reality where the virus didn't exist and everyone was moving on with their lives. There was never an outbreak wherever...here was.

He hopped down to the park. Maybe the family could give him some details. Where he was, what was happening, all the questions. He needed to get to the others pronto-

The visions flashed again in his head - violently. One of the infected launching at him with bared teeth for a split second. And she was familiar.

"Aaaaa!"

Suddenly, one of the kids pointed at him. They were looking at him directly with terrified faces. Why? Both children rushed over to their mother like chicks under the protection of the hen's wings.

"W-What?"

He reached out-

And gasped at the sight before him. His hands...they shouldn't be his hands. Orange veins like molten lava running through him, glowing out of crusty, disgusting blackened skin. Nails were sharpened and wrapped into deadly talons.

He had seen these kinds of hands. Only at night. These weren't his hands!

But they were attached to him.

 _No. No! What is this? What...why is this happening?_

More screaming around him.

He wanted to yell. He wasn't a monster. He was trying to help people! Save them! Scream out his name, Kyle! To confirm that he was still human. He was still inside!

Please! Someone hear him!

Then the dimming of one enormous light caught his attention.

The sun was going down. And just as it slowly descended behind the houses, something crept out from inside his head. Settling into the corners of his grey matter and making itself right at home.

Foreign. Primitive.

Hungry.

Dark whispers telling him to tear, rip, kill. Getting louder and louder as the night was drawing closer.

 _Nononono **NO!**_

He turned back to the family. He wanted to tell them to get away but a snarl came out instead. The unknown energy was building up inside his muscles, readying him for the stalk. The hunt. His teeth were aching for some sinking into flesh. And look over there, someone in the back of his mind murmured toxically at him. Easy prey.

Get them.

Stop! This isn't what I wanted!

He tried again.

 ** _RUN!_**

But all that came out of his mouth was the howl of a bloodthirsty monster.

* * *

 _Two weeks later..._

The loud, bouncy lyrics of sunshine and joy echoed uncannily throughout the dark, damp tunnel.

 _Vroom_ went the small boat, propelling smoothly across the gentle foamy waves. All of its engine noise taunted the slow walkers at the banks, attracting them closer to the boat. But as they limped towards the sound of the propeller, they clumsily fell into the saltwater without looking. Like chicken who can't swim, they sunk right under after a few clawing at the sides.

The driver didn't pay any heed, her fingers tapping to the music and her eyes upfront. As of now, the water was one safe haven without any undead able to reach her. The channel was the only best route surely could get her to her destination without any sort of dangers.

The end of the tunnel was within sight, the morning sunlight seeping in powerfully once the boat exited out.

The sneaky bright rays slipped past her shades, making a slender, gloved hand lift up and shield her eyes. But once her vision finally readjusted, she glanced at the familiar Mediterranean coastline of Harran. The blue water and crystal clear sky weren't breathtaking enough to dress up the city from its own horrors: the many streams of black smoke and the screams of the damned. Isolated apocalypse was upon humanity and while the destruction laid waste in the streets, the city seemed to rebel against it. The walls were still staying strong and whatever survivors were left inside were trying to push through. One more day. Just one more day.

One more day of surviving the Harran outbreak. Or surviving the infected. Or surviving from each other - men turning against one another just to live. The scenery of Harran's fall reflected that as true as the cold steel that stabbed into someone's back.

So the driver of the small speedboat couldn't help but feel slightly stunned at the sight. She scanned her eyes along the terrain, spotting the edge of the Slums in the distance - only a thin line on the horizon. So close and yet so far away. The proverbial grip in her chest was a little tight but she shoved that grim thought out with a little ritual of hers. Enough to calm the nerves down like always.

Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Her fingers counted. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4. Rinse and repeat.

It's going to be fine, Jackie. You'll find them.

Then her short attention drifted to one thing on the dashboard. Because it annoyed her. A weird bobblehead knockoff, probably from China by the quality of the material. She was told it was some game character - a rap singer with an open black shirt, red bandana over his eyes and one big golden B-pendant chain around his neck. It just tempted her to poke at it and watch the head bobble.

"You sure have some weird taste, Lenny..." she uttered, a thick accent escaping her lips.

There was then a feeling of vibration in the pocket of her sling bag. At first, she decided to let it run - because she knew who it was going to be. Maybe this upcoming earful would be less deafening since it was still daybreak. Her friend would be looking for a perk-me-up right about now.

That was what the woman was betting on. She slipped out a small earpiece into her ear, linked to the walkie-talkie on her belt.

 _Beep!_ " _Jack. Do you read me?_ "

Oh, she could hear the sweet, lovable voice of her comrade. Loud and clear. Steaming and ready to give her a vocal one-two punch. So she deliberately kept quiet and watched the scenery again.

" _C'moooon_ _. I know you can hear me!_ "

"Sorry about that, Bones. Just admiring the view."

" _Where are you? Everyone's been looking for you all morning._ "

"Somewhere near the Coast. Should be at the Slums in a few hours."

" _Ok. I don't even know which to be angry at. Thinking you got killed. Or out of all the places in Harran to go to, you're going there! You don't even have a Lifeline...! Asem's going to be pissed._ "

"Actually, she gave the OK."

" _Wait. Seriously?_ "

"You gotta do what you gotta do for family. And she knows it better than me. Besides, I'll be back in a jiffy," she reassured him before drifting the conversation off. "You know, this boat ride is rather relaxing."

" _Well, that explains Lenny going ballistic this morning. Geezus, Jack. What were you thinking? You could have been gunned down by the Navy._ "

"Like I said, it's just a short visit. Tower's been silent since last week now and that nitwit of a cous is probably losing his marbles again. So I'm just gonna drop by and give him a pep talk."

" _You never liked your cousin._ "

"We had our falling. But he's a bloody fool and he's all I got in this world. And hey, I get to meet up with Champ and her brother again. Won't they be surprised to see me. And see what the fuzz is about with their new runner too. Tells me he's been doing good with the folk there."

" _Sounds like he's completely the opposite of you._ "

"Ah-ha. Oooh, good one. Remember. I'm the only one who's doing this little pet project for you. And when have I never done a good deed for you guys?"

" _No, I mean - you are a good person! But sometimes your methods are...unorthodox._ "

"At least it delivers the bread on the table. And sounds like I'm not needed over at the Ravs. Maybe I should extend my stay at the Tower instead."

" _What - No! Of_ _course_ _you're needed. Stop putting words in my mouth!_ "

She chuckled. "I'm kidding, Bones. The Ravs is my home now. I won't abandon ye all."

" _Heh. That's good to hear. Asem would take my head if you did…_ "

"Our fearless leader? Nooo," Jack chided. "She'd make you stay on radio duty for another week."

 _"Ugggh, she would do that... And, Jack. Are you sure you want to be doing this away from the Ravs? There's nobody to get you if you go under. And no one outside the Ravs can know about this 'project' you're doing._ "

"Don't fret, mate. I'll be careful. I'm only birdwatching here, see how those freaks of nature think. And let a few Biters take a few snips off me-"

" _For collecting data, not screwing with your life,_ " the young man on the other end heaved a heavy sigh. " _We have no idea if that will even work. We haven't finished the tests, for Pete's sake!_ "

"Look, you said it yourself. It worked. It takes time for the infected to go down but the secret weapon worked. And if I can get the data you need, then we can help the Tower out with that cure of theirs, right?"

" _Theoretically, yes. But-_ "

"Then it's a better solution than just waiting. I beat the odds and I'm the only one brave enough to get close enough for those samples. You know that."

There was a muffled scream - hands over a mouth. Bones was surely having a hard time trying to win this one-sided argument. " _...You were cutting so close to the thread last time. We can't lose you again. Your cousin...if you two really do care about each other, then he's gonna be real broken about you._ "

The tension could be heard through the earpiece. He was still beaten up about the previous week. Hell, it was understandable so Jack couldn't help but feel a little apologetic.

"I know, Bones. I know. I'll...try to be a bit more careful."

" _That doesn't give me a vote of confidence. And you're not going to listen to me one way or another… Ok. You're wearing your PACT, right?_ "

Jack raised up her left wrist, glancing at the black digital bracelet with a thin green monitor - pulsing with the easy readings, from reading her adrenaline spikes to chemical influx. "As always. You should really come up with a better name."

" _Shut up and keep an eye on the color. When it hit blue, call me with the results. When it hits red, **call me!** Keep that tracker on at all times, got it?_"

"Got it."

" _And no fists!_ " he hissed. " _Just...find a weapon. Craft it out of thin air, for all I care. But no hand-to-hand combat. Don't even be a hero. We can't lose our best fighter out there._ "

"Oh, come now. I'm Mad Jack. I'm immortal."

" _ **Was**._ _Keyword, **was** Mad Jack. Don't make me read your file again,_" he groaned, letting a pause swing by. " _Contact HQ when you've arrived at the Slums._ "

"Yes, dad. You'll hear from me in three hours."

" _What is it?_ " Over the line, another voice could be heard in the background as her worried companion moved away from the mic. " _Jack, heads up. GRE has been sighted over the horizon. Asem thinks they might be sending the cavalry in for surveillance._ "

"Asem's always right on her keen sense. Wasn't there some rumors about them leaving a bomb in Harran?"

" _That was the military's doing. And pray to God, they never find it. I am not going to go down in that kind of blast of glory._ "

"Amen to that."

" _They're coming in hot and heavy too. So avoid those jarheads at all cost. We don't need attention._ "

"Affirmative. But you know they could just bring in another bomb."

" _Jack, why can't you just be optimistic for once?_ "

"I'm being realistically optimistic. There's a difference."

" _Just get back here in one piece. Good luck._ "

With the other end gone cold, the runner kept the earpiece back in its original spot.

"...I don't think I can promise you that, mate."

Looking back at the scenery again, she decided to retract back her earlier thought. It was a bittersweet sight. The infected filled the streets like packs of lionesses, slow and sluggish by day and by night, much greater threats came out, thirsting for flesh and blood. And that was just the tamest part of the city.

Citizens were struggling with food, water, and even Antizin. Survival of the fittest was the main game for the past few months, leading to factions being self-deluded beacons of hope while lashing at each other for the drops. The most dangerous one she had heard from the Slums was one large group by a psychopath. And she could only imagine the city was turning into ruins - with the airdrops on complete halt more than two weeks ago. Well, that's what happens when a city was abandoned by the whole world. Humans turned far more threatening and vicious than the undead freaks. She knew that from her own experience.

So when she'd reach the Slums, Jack was going to stay low - no unwanted trouble needed while she'd stay over.

"...Harris, you'd better be alive or I'm kicking your arse when I find you."

Just as she glanced back to the bow, something caught her attention in the distance. Stirring up sea foam across the surface fifteen feet away. It was barely in the seconds that she noticed the strange form heading towards the boat.

And it was coming. Fast.

"What the hell-?!"

Despite her best effort to avoid, the unknown thing hit the bow. Hard. The sheer force bashed the boat right to a 45-angle left, heading towards a stone pier close back. There was nothing she could do but brace for the impact.

 _CRASH!_

"GARGH!" Her whole body went flying, right onto a pile of blue garbage bags, cushioning her abrupt fall. The full brunt knocked the wind right out of her as she rolled off with a huff of pain. For a few undesirable seconds, her vision went blurry as she forced herself back on her knees. She wasn't alone on the dock, she couldn't waver. Biters were everywhere, staggering towards the one noise they heard: her welcoming.

Then she remembered the boat. Its side smashed and with nothing to pilot it, it aimlessly drifted away from the stoned dock. Away from her.

"No! The boat!" Jack hurried after it-

"Grooooaaawnn!" Coming in unexpectedly, an 8-feet-tall Goon lifted up a rebar. High up it went, ready to crack open her head like a watermelon.

"Whoa!"

 _THUD!_

The concrete beneath the spot she was just on cracked apart as she skidded a good three, five feet back. The Goon's hollow white eyes glimpsed with raw instinct. To kill a puny human.

"Yeah, you know what? Keep it!"

No human being would dare go up and fight a Goon - not even her. That was crazy talk! And she had her fair share of craziness. Jack knew the odds and it was very much against her. She was defenseless and carried little on her - the rest of her equipment was now at the bottom of the sea.

But speed was the best tool a runner could use in times like this. Speed was vital. So Jack was off. No time to stop for a split second or she'd be chomp food.

There was one slight problem. There was nowhere else for her to go for safety! After the pier was a two-storey-tall, thirty-feet-long barricade. An extra wing of Harran's City Walls, creeping into the coastline and stretching from one end of the beach to the other. It was a new addition after the rebuilding of those surrounding walls in the past, now barred with all sorts of protection to keep any infected hoppers from jumping over. The Coast was a closed-off area with the GRE and authorities establishing a means of protection from the nearby quarantine areas, bordering off the shorelines and the city of Harren.

That was why she took this route - no zombies along the coastline and most of all, no Navy. Now she was going to pay the price.

"Someone! Anyone!" she hollered along the side. Just one kind soul over the tall concrete wall to hear her and pull her over, which was highly unlikely. They'd shoot her on sight. If she must, she was going to have to take a dip in and face whatever was lurking in the water.

Her sprint dropped to a skip and a halt as her eyes widened at a new sight. Crumpled rocks laid waste on the floor. From a giant hole in the wall.

How? When did this open up?

The questions didn't matter right now. **_Her life_ **did!

The gurgling groans and snarls closed in right behind her. Surrounding her. The zombies picked up the pace on their new prey as she galloped through the tear. Sure enough, beyond the walls were more infected, heads spinning round to fresh tasty prey.

Oh. Perfect.

"Get up, Jackie! Floor's lava!"

With a foot on a fence and another on a sliding, she swished her way up to the second deck of coastal houses. Hopping from one balcony to the next, Jack eyed around for any likely safe spot to stay for a good amount of time, just to get her bearings again. Either way, being up and above was far safer than below on the streets.

"Graaargh!"

"Oomph!" She didn't notice the Viral coming fast at her, out from an open door and both came tumbling off the balcony. This time, there was no soft cushion for Jack. "Gargh!"

A blinding pain wracked through her body in an instant. Her ears rang as vertigo hit her hard. Oh, did she really hope her skull was fine - Bones would never forgive her if he heard about this. But as her head cleared up, she felt another source of pain still lingering.

On her leg. The Viral that fell down with her was latching onto it, climbing its way up with a hiss.

"Get off me!" She kicked it off with one fell swoop. No sign of a tear in the fabric but a bite wasn't and shouldn't be her main concern. Because a second Viral was darting after her.

Quickly, her hand searched behind her and gripped on a pipe lying around. The space between them wasn't enough time for her to use it like a weapon - the infected runner already pinning her down with its rotten body, flaying saliva at her. Jack quickly pushed back the snapping jaws with the pipe at the neck and one shoe pushing back on the chest. But most importantly, she was spending too long on the ground.

Seriously? This was how she was gonna end up? Getting eaten by these bastards?

"Mad Jack...isn't gonna die here! Not. Until. I say so!"

Just as she was about to boot the Viral off-

"Rrrargh!"

The Viral was gone. Two bodies rolled off, the force nearly taking her along for the ride. And from the two bodies, she saw one rise up triumphantly and exhume out another roar - loud and fierce that it made Jack's heart jump to her throat. It was pure domination to the other infected that said: "this prey is mine!". Jack scrambled as far as she could go, her back hitting the stone rim of a fountain while she bore witness to a one-sided feral fight.

Great, a second new type she'd never seen before. It had been a while since Jack felt fear and she was shaking in her shoes. Because that thing was a beast, bashing the Viral to a bloody pulp with its bare fists.

Fists? Wait. Zombies don't punch. They flay their arms at victims in an attempt to overwhelm them, but they didn't have a shred of intelligence to 'punch'. And those fists? They were split-opened claws, enough to tear flesh apart instead of beating on meat.

Suddenly, yellow eyes snapped right onto her.

Just the eyes and the baring of canines. Maybe before the infection, the bastard was wearing some sort of head covering - now turned into draping rags. Which was good. Of course, she didn't want to see its ugly face. Its whole body was already hideous with bone spikes piercing out through the back of its jacket.

But it was clear to her. Those eyes had one thing in sight. Locked.

It wanted Jack.

"Fuck! Are you kidding me?!"

She climbed back onto her feet and bolted for an uphill street. The dead onlookers hawked right behind her, around her and in front of her. One good swing of the pipe and she sent a head flying off. Then the next. The predator's roars and the sound of a few backers falling like flies didn't tempt her to peek back. Sounded like the tough guy didn't want to share her with the other zombies. She took that conflict between 'their kind' as a blessing in disguise.

"HEY!"

Jack gazed up to the voice. Up the stretch of road ahead, she spotted a fenced-up warehouse and with a person jumping up and down on a platform, waving her arms at the brunette.

Oh thank goodness! Survivors!

Two more joined the short runner on the top, clearly in similar runner attires as Jack herself. They pointed out handheld spotlights with the purple lens as if they were assault rifles, right at her.

"Blast it!"

The lights didn't seem to do anything, almost invisible under the bright sun. But the sound of sizzling skin and aggravated hisses made her realize one thing. Ultraviolet lights.

"Open the gates! Hurry!" the black-haired teenager hollered down below, which whoever was behind the gates compelled. The heavy grate doors growled loudly but opened too slowly. It was a tight squeeze, which Jack quickly dropped down into a skid and slid right through the narrow gap.

A loud roar echoed behind her. It wasn't the predator with the golden eyes., _That_ sounded a lot bigger.

"Close it! Close it!"

One thug that towered even most men Jack knew in her lifetime hurried to the center of the gates and with all his strength, cranked them shut. The gates suddenly banged, the force pushing even the hulk off his feet. Time was ticking: the teenager quickly dropped down to hurry up with the locks while more people joined, armed to the teeth.

"Keep the UVs on that thing!" The dominating voice of a man boomed across the front yard of the warehouse. "Get some heat out now! Will, check out our visitor."

Jack couldn't sit up and watch the rushed activities unfolding around her. She couldn't even assess her situation other than that she was safe and help was here. An old man in his fifties, with a stethoscope around his neck, kneeled beside her and immediately uttered out words she couldn't understand. Polish? Then he tried Arabic. Next, English, "Are you alright?"

More or less but Jack was all too weary to speak up. She simply listened to the sounds telling her that things were slowly getting back to control within the warehouse. Running for her dear life did her body in a little. Every muscle in her was burning. She was even too numb and tired to notice the doctor examining for any injuries. Her breathing, her pressure, all the basics of first aid. After all, her mind was too preoccupied right then and there.

This day wasn't supposed to end like this. Her boat wasn't supposed to crash, she wasn't supposed to make an emergency pitstop at the Coast and she definitely knew this city wasn't supposed to be overrun with infected.

None of this was how she planned. But then again, most of her plans never went the way she wanted them to go.

"B-Bloody fucking dandy…" was all she could muster out as a murmur. Jack finally let the exhaustion win the battle this time and shut her eyes. Didn't matter if she received more pain when the back of her head hit the dirt. She was gone out like a light. Jack could figure out what was going on after some rest.

One thing was for certain. Guess she was stuck in Scanderoon for a while.

* * *

A/N: Hello all. So this is my interpretation of what happens after the Following. Or in other words: what happens when you've been having a lot of fun writing a sequel to the Vile ending, right down to even game ideas (especially when you have a game design degree!). But DL has become a gem to me that I wanted to do a complex fanfic that not only continues after the end but picture it like it's a whole new game: from new locations, new enemy types, new plot points and characters, new explorations, new combat and so on.

What made me start on this fic and even the game itself, I have to give thanks to a youtuber (GalmHD) for let's playing it. It got me to go into the game itself for all its lore and story, while having fun with my close friend for shenanigans. I had already started this fic before I first played it (mostly cuz I got spoiled to the ending thanks to Youtube autoplaying that one scene...whoopie.) But the ending, the game, everything, motivated me to construct a huge sequel. And once I finished the game, it made me even more determined to write on - a sorta redemption/closure fic to the game.

This is still a Kyle Crane story, no matter what. This is his redemption arc while the red herring protagonist, Mad Jack, is to serve as his wingman (for a lot of reasons later on, cough) - with plans and circumstances that will affect the development between them, for the better or worse. And yes, it's OCs, but I do hope each original creation I make is as fresh and well-polished to your liking, even for Mad Jack - a more rounded brawler with her own personality, backstory, and own gameplay skillset. I know people aren't mostly fond of OCs, which is why right now, I'm gonna say this: she's basically just the deuteragonist for the majority of the plot.

Moreover, Jack is a creation based around the relationship between Brecken, Jade and Rahim. I found it odd how for some lines, Brecken was a bit protective over the two. And of course, there could be reasons. But I've always thought of an idea that there was someone being a common denominator between them that created the bonds between them. A link. So Jack Brecken, aka Mad Jack the Wild Dog, based on how I think she'd interact with these three people - Brecken's cousin, Jade's rival and mentor and Rahim's guardian before the outbreak. And with that, created one powerful plot point I have: Kyle Crane learning Jack knew the siblings and keeping the secret from her that they are dead. Something I've yet to come down this fic but it's gonna be one emotional part of the story. Plus, I designed Jack to provide a darker counterpart to Crane and to highlight the facets of his personality. Metaphorically, while Crane represents white lies, Jack represents the brutal truth. The false hero, and the honest villain. There is going to be a lot of dynamics I have, not just between them but with the whole world of Descent.

Another note: I've been plotting out the overall plot, divided into 5 main arcs (prologue arc is currently being revamped on the go). And with the rise of Dying Light 2 close around the corner, I have some ideas of how this fic can tie into that story without having any problem of lack of continuity. As stated on paper for the end of DL, Harran has fallen and so are all characters and that will be what I'll follow too (at least for the canon ending anyway) to make this fic a possible open-end tie to DL2. In order words, the Descent is not gonna have a happy ending like the Following did. For Kyle, Jack, the DL characters and Descent characters. It was right to me to make plans on how the ending will be because honestly, anything like an outbreak or a war or a disaster - people die. And you can't stop the inevitable. I'll give my conclusion once I read that last page of Descent.

Ok enough rambling. I hope you'll enjoy this and review. Please let me know if there are some problems or mistakes I can improve on. Or lore I should tackle. Thank you very much and welcome to the Descent.

Edit, 10/10/19: Hey all, this is a minor update which probably current readers won't see but I'm going over my chapters for some small revamp and fixes. Nothing to major but also some added things to make the flow better. One thing I'm doing is organizing these chapters and separating them into arcs so I'm not all over the place onwards. There'll be a total of four arcs, and a fifth being the prologue arc. 18/10/19 - Reedited for minor mistakes and errors.


	2. ONE: BREAKING THE ICE

Chapter Summary

 **\- FIND A WAY TO HARRAN**

Nobody has heard from the Tower in a while now. And the way to the Slums is going to be a difficult one. But that isn't going to stop me. - Jack

* * *

 **ONE: BREAKING THE ICE**

* * *

Light was a survivor's...good long-time friend in these dark times. It had been a companion to the first humans when they discovered fire. Throughout history, light was a powerful symbol that purged away the fears and doubts, whether by nature or by humanity's hands. Now, it served that purpose again. In a time where the city - a second location at that - was overrun with the dead hungry for human flesh, daylight gave a moment of calmness and liberty for the citizens of Scanderoon. The Biters were sluggish under the sun - like cats sunbathing - while the Specials were hiding in the sewage. The only way they would stir up is if a poor sob floundering into their neck of the woods and dragged away to become a nice, tasty meal. So in some way, the day was a form of comfort - so long as you aren't tackled by a Viral or two.

But that comfort was only temporary. Once the sun was down, the nights were a whole different story. So all people could do was wait for the cycle to finish and endure the nighttime. Every morning, the bright rays of the rising sun was a single grace they welcome with satisfaction. Relief. The overwhelming joy of surviving the horrible night.

It was, however, annoyingly too much for Jack's eyes. Or was it the doctor's penlight?

"Is she going to be ok?"

"At best, she suffers from a headache. At worst, her skull's cracked open. Would be nice if this rickety place was at a hospital."

"Too big, too many way-ins the infected can crawl in, and too cramped for escape. You know that, Doc."

"Ay, ay, what Mahir said. Well, doesn't matter." The penlight was off but her eyes still stung. She could feel the doctor examine the back of her head. "Looks like this isn't your first head trauma. I can't tell if you're lucky or unlucky."

"Sorry. Could someone close the curtains? It's bloody bright in here," Jack groaned.

"Hmm," the old man gruffed, scratching his chin. "Must have taken more than just a beating to the head if you're sensitive to light." He gestured to someone, a woman, in the background, and she complied with Jack's wishes.

"Being pushed off from the second floor by a zombie can do that. I think."

Once the light dimmed with the scratching of the curtain rings, her vision readjusted. She was on a makeshift bed, on top of boxes that gave her back problems. From what she could tell, she was in an office that had been turned into a small medical bay. Before her was the old man, another unfamiliar face - probably his assistant - and the young tan-skinned teenager slouched by the door.

"Well, your headache should go away. But if it doesn't, come see me. Williams' the name but you can call me Will," the old bloke introduced himself. "Forcefully-appointed doctor of the Junction."

"Because you're the only one here with medical knowledge," the assistant pointed.

"Not a doctor, Hadya. A professor. In Anthropology. There's a difference."

"Jack." She introduced herself, pinching her nose to squeeze herself out of her drowsiness. "I've gone through worse."

"Hm." The old British man crouched his frown. "Concerning. But none of my business. Other than a headache, you should be fine. But the bites are a concern."

"She's bitten?" one of the girls said with a tint of worry.

"I didn't get bitten," Jack assured them. She was sure about it during her run.

"Not recent. But you've had a couple before, haven't you?" Well, he saw the healed ones. "Did you go one-on-one with those Biters?"

"How long was I out?" she forced the question out, shoving away Will's instead.

"About a day. Which you needed after yesterday. You certainly stirred the whole neighborhood up."

"A day? Bloody-" She groaned, her shaking head in her hands. "Bones' gotta be crazy by now."

The old man knitted his eyebrows together, having a harder look at their new visitor. That expression was the kind that people have seen her face before. Especially with a shaking, pointing finger at her. "You know...you look mighty familiar. Were you on TV?"

Ooooh, this again.

"Probably. My face's recognizable."

The shaking grew more aggressively. "Yeah. You're Mad Jack."

And there it was. The one and only.

"Guilty as charged-"

"The Wild Dog. Yes! At the GTC tournament in 2011!" The grin was wide. Will wheeled back and forth to the other two ladies in the room, despite their faces clearly showing they had no clue what the doctor was talking about. "She was the kickboxing world champion back then. Three times in a row."

"Actually, four-"

"A firecracker who gives suplexes a whole different meaning."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration-"

"Hellraiser that sent shivers down rookies' spines."

"Ok, I did have an attitude-"

"Attitude is an understatement. You bit off the Cannon's ear outside the ring."

"Wait, how did you-"

"Broke both legs off that one officer, too."

"Ok, that bloody bloke had it coming. Didn't keep his hands off that girl. And he wasn't doing any search-up."

The calm, icy outburst surprised the assistant in the back, unsure to believe the legitimacy behind those words. But the old man slapped his knee with a loud laugh. "Aha! The legend herself."

"I didn't know you were into kickboxing, Doctor," Hadya exclaimed.

"Oh, no. Not at the beginning. My wife, rest her soul, never missed any of your fights, missus. She found you an inspiration. I heard that you were starting up self-defense classes this year."

"I may be retired but I do need to pay the bills. So, yes, I was opening up a gym. Until the outbreak hit Harran," Jack explained with a sheepish scratch.

The doctor tossed another laugh, this time mixed in with an apologetic vibe - on the Harran statement - and well-mannered amusement - on the part about her classes. "She would have wanted to take them, that's for sure."

"Heh," she chuckled. "Well, if it's any consolation, I would have been honored to have her as a student."

"Ha ha! Good to hear that! If my days were ever outnumbered, I can tell her I met Mad Jack in the flesh."

"Doctor!" Hadya hollered. "Seriously."

But the old man just rumbled on with loud laughter, folding away his stethoscope before he pulled out a small bottle. A _familiar_ bottle and injection gun. "I jest, I jest. Well, shouldn't keep you here any longer. We have enough Anizitin to share around-"

"That won't be necessary." The response came out too fast. Jack almost thought she had made a rookie mistake when the professor looked at her funny. "Had my shot before I left home."

At first, the old man gave the kind of expression she remembered her grandpa giving. But he held out his hands. "Alright. If you say so. Just so you know, we have enough to share." He passed the bottle to Jack - a gesture telling her the offer still stood - before getting up to leave. "Drop by the sickbay for tea later. Eager to listen to your stories, Jack. Siv, show her around, would you? This one's a keeper."

The assistant followed the professor out of the room, leaving the two behind. And Jack could read the air, the sudden thick tension between them. She didn't have to feel it - the expression on the young girl's face had the words clearly written - the young Turkish runt did not like the newcomer one bit. Hell, the whole posture and attire exhumed the rebellious stage she saw in some teenagers - with a bit of jungle green for contrast in the young girl's accessories.

"So. You're Mad Jack. Bigshot champion, huh?" the young girl huffed out with hands in pockets of her baggy pants.

Oh boy. Now how light should Jack tread? "Retired. Passed that title over to someone else three years ago."

The young teenager's narrowed eyes scanned the older woman, from head to toes. With a "hmph", she continued, "Yeah, you won't survive out there for five minutes."

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you out there. You were running around like a beheaded chicken."

"That's because I didn't think this city would have the Harran virus too." And that was a good statement she brought up herself, making her think. "When did this happen?"

"Two weeks ago. Doesn't matter how and why, it's 'do or die' now. You're gonna have to prove your weight around here if you wanna keep up, Granny."

"Granny? Sweetie, I'm barely out of my prime. You think you can do a better job than me?"

"I can certainly outrun you." The runner strolled off to the door. "If you wanna talk to the leader here, Mahir's downstairs," she uttered, disappearing. "Welcome to Scanderoon."

Well, that was a warm, welcoming introduction. Complete disregard that she was asked to show the newcomer around there.

Jack snorted. "Cheeky kid. Reminds me too much of Champ." She kept a soft laugh inside. "I like it."

Just before she was about to leave, she realized something was amiss on her face, prompting her to pat down her jacket. When it wasn't in any of her pockets, she glanced around before finally spotting it on the desk. The pair of sports sunglasses she wore had a few minor scratches under the glare of the light but she had never thrown them away. Never took them off in the day.

No way was she leaving them behind. It would be an honest sin.

Once she clipped them on her collar, she made her way to the ground floor - seeing the inner workings of the Junction. Cubicle-like walls were placed up to make individual rooms: important stations like vendors, kitchen, the sickbay, living quarters, etc. Impressive for a group of survivors but she could tell they were under-equipped. It was a miracle they've stood against the tides for two weeks the infected dove into the Coast. Perhaps because of the news about Harran had some folks be prepared on their toes.

"-It's not looking good, Boss. Those bastards' been getting to the drops first these days."

She found what was probably the command room - five people around a map pinned down on the table, in the breakroom. There were noticeable pieces from board games along the surface, enough to pinpoint locations and symbolize their own significant representations. Well, better than nothing, she supposed. You had to make do with what you got when the world's ending.

One man in his mid-thirties, the leader from the looks of it - military shirt and pants said it all - heaved a heavy sigh. "Rotate the rations for the next three days and take a break. Let's see if Beta team can get the ones up North."

The other people gave disappointed looks but eventually obeyed, accepting the fact it was all they could do for the time being.

"And send word to Dua. We need another two boxes of Anitizin."

The five adults took their departure from the command room but the leader brightened up at the sight of Jack.

"Welcome back to the living, newcomer." He held out his arms with praise as if her presence could lighten up the mood inside the room - left stale once the dispirited men strolled right out. The exception of one stayed back at a small radio station. "We don't have much. But we got coffee." He held out his hand, which Jack shook it.

"Mahir, I take?"

The man in the military shirt nodded. "That was rather daring of you to be out at the coastline. Those infected seem more feral at the shore than in the city, Miss-"

"Jack. From the Outskirts."

"The Outskirts? As in Harran?"

She nodded.

Mahir was indeed surprised. "You are far away from home. That's on the other side of the Old City. Where the first outbreak happened."

"Near Sector 0."

"I thought the place was closed off."

"And I thought this city was walled off."

"Heh," Mahir scorned loudly, leaning back on the table. "Clearly, it didn't last long. If you managed to get here without being shot down by the military, then something from Harran did come in too."

"True. I was trying to get to the Slums through the channels. But here I am, stuck just like everyone here," Jack chided, ignoring Mahir's shocked look that clearly read "how crazy are you to be heading to that place?".

"Yeah, and we need to stay alive. Can't depend on the authorities to fix this problem anymore. Look at how they handled Harran. We don't know how this virus got in but the fact is, it's here. And we're sick. We're the ones who need to do something." Mahir's face grimaced.

"Hence, the Junction. Well, consider another pair of hands from a Harran citizen to help you out in these harsh times," Jack boasted. "I'm pretty seasoned in survival."

"Good. You're gonna need that here." A pause hung, as if the leader had something next to say. "So...the Outskirts. Do you...know a woman named Asem? Asem Karga."

Jack's eyebrows raised. Now that was something she never expected. "Why, as a matter of fact, yes. She's in charge of the group I'm in. The Ravs."

There was a sigh of relief. Mahir clearly was grasping at straws and took a dare to ask that question, a gamble that anyone could possibly meet one woman with that name. Once he got the answer he wanted, a grin smirked wide across the tall man's face. His shoulders slouched down, less heavier than before.

"Heh. Yeah, she would do that. One step ahead of everyone else… Glad to hear she's doing fine."

So he knew Asem. Hm. "Well, far better than anyone else dealing with this outbreak. Woman knows how to handle a rifle."

The laugh came out loud and warm. That statement gave more resolve in the man - like hearing a long-time friend was alive and well. "That she does. She's probably right in her element. I imagine the Outskirts is as tough as it is here."

"More or less. Those freaks outside gave me a run for my money, mate."

"Sounds like any runner's story here. Well, mostly from Siv."

"The girl with short hair, right?" she asked. "You should keep her off the streets. I can see that gal doing something real stupid one of these days."

"Won't deny that. But she's capable - if she doesn't get ahead of herself - and we're low on numbers. If it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have our runners."

"So she's in charge of the runners? All of you-?"

"No, no. I couldn't pull myself on the bars like I used to. And," he lifted up one of his leggings, showing a prosthetic leg. "I can't really run well."

Ah. "Sorry, didn't mean ill-will."

"None taken. I'm surprised I've managed this far in this city," Mahir then continued to move on the conversation. "We have about ten runners here. The rest are a few ex-military like me, staff, civilians and anyone else crazy enough to get supplies on foot."

That didn't sound good to her. "Understaffed, aren't you?"

"Nothing much we can do about that. All hands are on deck here."

"Well, just tell everyone to be extra careful when going outside. Especially with that new type out there."

"New?" There was a look of concern written all over the leader's face. "Mind sharing?"

More like she had no idea how to explain it. But anyone would need the new info just to be safe. "I dunno. Some bloody...freakaoid chased me all the way from the beach. Like a hunter."

"A Night Hunter?" The name seemed to click to Mahir, much more concerned than before, his stern face darkening. "In broad daylight? That's not possible. They only come out at night. As the name says. Deadlier than the Volatiles."

"Well, this one was prancing around like he owned the place. And sounds like it's something common here."

"And not in the Outskirts? Like I said, only at night. But a Hunter running amok in the day... That's something to worry about… Thanks." Mahir gave a pat on the shoulder. "I'll let the runners know." At first, Jack thought the good gesture and shaking hands were a good way to break the ice. But the man's quiet expression then told her that wasn't enough for a stranger like her. He eventually folded his arms, like an interviewer waiting to be wowed. "So since you've offered yourself as an extra pair of hands, mind telling me what you can do. Or are you gonna be another deadweight to us?"

"Deadweight? Me? Now I'm offended." Jack jested with a palm on her chest. "If you want to get rid of me that badly, then I'll walk myself out the door."

"You can. But you're no ordinary person. People's talking about you being a famous kickboxer."

 _My, word goes around._ "My reputation precedes me. And it's 'retired'."

"Hm-hm. And can you tell me that you really are 'retired' from fighting? You look the type who might just get up and leave after a good night's sleep."

Right, the trust game. She couldn't blame him - she had her fair share of picking allies and enemies. Before and after the outbreak.

"Hey, I'm with Asem. That's good enough for you to know what I'm friend."

"But I only know her. I don't know you or what she's been up to."

"I should say the same to you. How do I know this is the same woman we're talking about?"

"You don't. But what choice do you have?"

The silence hung tight, neither side was folding their cards down. Eventually, with a soft sigh, Jack was the first to yield. There was no ill intent in the man's body language.

"Alright. Time to sell myself," Jack started, ready to give her all on a well-done pitch. "I'm no longer the kickboxer champion I was three years. But I did say I can help. I'm what you'd call a...a specialist. Retrieval, mostly. Name anything you want and I can fetch it without any problem. Even people. With a bit of compensation."

"So you're a service for hire."

"Pretty much. It is hard to bring someone back alive. But I won't ask for money. It isn't in the Ravs' rulebook."

"And all of you are the same? The Ravs, I mean."

"No, just me. The Ravs is Asem's idea - she and the group go help people in the Outskirts anyhow they can. Scavenge what they can find quick and quiet while taking care of the infected for the folks there."

"So basically crows."

"Of course. And I'm very good at distraction. I prefer going in with all the noise and away from the Ravs. Get the heat off good people and give them a chance to live another day."

"That's...a risky role you got there."

"It helps. And it might help you too. Crows are loud and notorious."

There was a long pause between them, as if he wasn't finding her pitch convincing. But the leader smirked widely. "...Asem picked a good friend. One with balls."

"She has a good eye for people."

"Oooh- **ho** ," Mahir chuckled. "That she does."

"I'm only here until I get my boat. Like I said, I was on my way to the Slums before I made this pitstop."

"Fair enough." He stood up, directing her to the map. "Well, might as well get you up to speed. All roads are permanently closed off at the north and there's only water down south. We've seen several yachts try to leave but all got sunken down by the Navy."

"So absolutely and utterly no escape."

"Just be careful looking for this boat of yours. Water's too dangerous for anyone to sail out to sea."

"You don't have to tell me twice," she muttered under her breath.

"Important landmarks are the dockyard over here, the shopping district, and the city square. Way over there is your place, the Outskirts. Which I advise against going. The tunnel's caved in."

"I saw the rubble on the other side... Gonna need some heavy climbing tools if I wanna get back there."

"I can help you with that. I know a friend who can get you the gear. If it's that urgent for you to get back to Ravs."

"Nothing I can't accomplish. But I'm in no hurry. Once I find my boat, I can take the way back. In the meantime, I can get to learn more about how you and Asem know each other so well," Jack chided in a more chirpy kind of voice.

A purposefully-loud groan and a shake of the head. "Ehhh, I'd rather you don't."

She cocked an eyebrow. That was a moment of hesitation in the man's posture, a hunch of shame. "Is there some rift I should know about between you two?"

"No, no," he yelped. "We're just friends from military school. Nothing big."

Clearly, there was something more. "Too sensitive of a topic? We are in the middle of a zombie outbreak. No need to keep secrets."

"This secret, I'm keeping to my grave. Ahem." Mahir cleared his voice and steered the conversation back to the map. "Now, two main spots you want to be careful. Up there's the Baias Castles, 10 miles from here. Our runners saw GRE making camp at the old ruins there."

"GRE? Here in Scanderoon?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Jack grumbled under her breath. Wonderful. "Didn't expect to hear that name here. But I guess they would get involved."

GRE. Global Relief Effect. The name was just as infamous as her name as the Wild Dog. On record and to the whole world, it was one of those humanitarian organizations, dedicated to supporting and helping people under large crises - from warzones to natural disasters. And GRE was called in for the new epidemic event, working so comfortably with the Ministry of Defence. They were the ones who sent in the airdrops over at Harran, giving every day a shred of hope to the citizens that all would be alright.

But she had heard stories. And there were more stories she witnessed over at the Outskirts.

"I heard they were responsible for the virus getting out in Harran," Mahir commented.

"That's the rumor," she said with little uncertainty. "But nobody knows exactly how."

"Whatever the case is, it's none of our concern as long as GRE leaves us alone. They haven't done anything except loitering around at the Ruins."

"Hm. Odd. Even odder to pick a place like that."

"Next spot of danger is the prison up by the Bay. Whole place's opened up and the prisoners there have made their own place of operation. Pirating, pillaging. Few of their men have tried to ransack the place a couple of times."

"Now that _is_ a problem."

"More than you know it. Heard they've been doing some illegal boxing ring to relieve the stress. Bunch of lunatics," Mahir scoffed. "They'll wipe themselves out to stupidity in the end."

"Boxing?" she almost sang that word out. "Sounds like my kind of alley."

Mahir glimpsed at Jack with a look of concern. He didn't like the sound of her enthusiasm. "Yeah, don't do anything stupid with them. They don't treat ladies kindly."

She cocked an eyebrow, offended. "Who says I'm gonna treat them kindly either?"

He held his palms out. "Don't say I didn't warn you. And there you have it. Easy to remember, right? Just look for the clocktower and you won't lose your way in this city."

"What's this over there?" She pointed at one area to the west.

"Suburbans. Not too far from Harran's edge. Supposedly, that was the first place the virus hit in this city. And there's supposedly some sort of following down there."

"A following?" She was given a nod.

"Nobody has seen them but they've been leaving around some freaky stuff. Masks, candles. People say it's cursed now."

"Pft," Jack laughed. "Curses. Sure."

"Hey, I would agree with you there. If a few survivors haven't gone missing there over the week."

"Missing?" she exclaimed.

"No idea and I'd rather we don't find out." He scratched his head grimly. "We nearly lost one of our suppliers the other day. Guy lived but...apparently, he saw something he didn't like... Let's just say he left us after that."

"Sorry to hear that."

He shrugged, seemingly having been through this many times. "It happens… The last thing he said, he called them the Firebrand. We don't know what this group is up to but if you see anyone with a sun symbol, be careful."

"Duly noted. The name already sounds ominous from the get-go."

"No kidding," Mahir stated, ending with his hands on his hips and his mind in deep thought. Clearly, he was trying to recall any more good info to pass on but nothing came to mind. "And that's it. We're done with the formalities. So make yourself at home. At least...as homey as this place can be. Browse our wares, meet the locals. Pretty sure, you're gonna have a lot of work on your hands."

Homey. Well, Jack was already feeling right at home in the Junction.

"I'm happy to serve."

The Junction was one place of sanctuary in the middle of the industrial area. The foreign structure on the walls reflected the work done over the two weeks - well reinforced to keep the walkers out and easily accessible across the top floors to nearby buildings within the perimeter. There had been wear and tear, failures and successes in keeping the walkers and the more troublesome people out but through the days, the Junction stood against all odds. It was a fortress: with one way being through the main gates. No infected skilful enough could invade the Junction's grounds without being gunned down or blasted by UV rays.

One such creature saw all of the location's protections from the scaffolding of a construction site - just opposite of the district. Orange eyes watched eerily at the orange-lit bodies walking casually behind walls, a banquet waiting to be devoured. After all, to any infected, the Junction was a whale of a catch but to this one zombie, it didn't care - numbers were a problem. The special walker's vexation overpowered its own hunger.

It only wanted one human. The woman in red.

Where was she…

Something was off about her. Something familiar. Something disgusting that put bile in its mouth.

Was it her again?

Did she come back alive? No, yes! The voice. The damn voice. She was still alive. Always have been, always scratching out at the back. It made him vengeful, emotions from the past coming back at full force until the other side - the one most aggressive and thirsty for the scent of blood - took over the mind. Snarling at the other voice to go away. This was its territory, not his! _Leave!_

And he did, the rage drowning down by an old, ancient feeling. It was like being dragged down to the bottom of the ocean and letting the sharks take the surface. The great white one was the king of this mind now, not him. Let the king do the work for him.

 _Sure... whatever..._

He was still too tired to even fight back...

Now that the other voice was quenched, the creature turned back to the Junction. The source of its bane was somewhere in there, back from the ashes. The small pesky shark had somehow wormed her way alive and wandered into these hunting grounds. Not an illusion but in plain sight. She was in the flesh, inside that building.

If she was back...they were gonna kill her again.

It had the power now. It wasn't the old, poor, pathetic human he once was and _they_ have achieved so much since _they_ became one. _They_ were the King of the Night.

She was another pathetic infected that they could destroy.

That was the goal now for the Hunter. But it knew full well it would be too risky to charge in. Evidence of its brethren laid waste from failed attempts - bodies across the ground, traps and bare wires. The distance across the tops was too far for a leap and only death by fall was certain. Those irritating obstacles were making its claws ache.

Just wait. Wait for her to leave, said the beastly voice.

But instead of seeing her go through the main gates, the door on the rooftop flung open. Out popped Jack.

There. There she was.

She _was_ back.

It ushered out an irritating snarl, its molten-orange-colored talons digging into the wood. But it tamed its aggression down. Patience. Be patient. It could wait. It had all the time in the world now. This was their hunting grounds after all.

Jack was all too occupied to notice the golden eyes locked on her from all the way across the street. The blazing sun stung her eyes the moment she stepped out, inducing out an annoyed groan and a hand as shade. Quickly, she fished out her sunglasses and slipped them on - relieving her from the pain sunlight gave. It was then she marvelled at the coast of Scanderoon. Quite a stunning sight - for the most part. This section of the city was just as bad as Harran, infested thick with the undead.

"Man… Scanderoon had seen better days…" she muttered to herself. "Last time I was here was for the championship tournament…"

The wind was nice, cool and refreshing but stunk of the rotten flesh, ashes, and iron. Ok, enough of sightseeing, Jack put on her earpiece.

"Come on. Pick up. I know you're having an aneurysm by now. Or two. Or three-"

 _Beep!_

"- _Jack? Jack! Oh my god, you're alive. Thank god._ " The voice started up with a sense of overwhelming joy. Then it changed on a dime. " _Where the hell were you?!_ "

"It's nice to hear your voice again, Bones."

" _I've been pushing Asem to send rallies to get you! Don't do that to me, man!_ "

"Not my intention. Had to make a sharp detour into the Coast and was out for a day. And I think I'm gonna be stuck here with this group of survivors for a while."

" _Survivors?_ "

"Scanderoon's another pandemic spot. We've got the virus here too."

" _Shit..._ " The weight of the news hit the radioman quite hard. The situation has spread far beyond the walls of Harran. " _That bad?_ "

"Pretty much. Feels like HQ here. These people have given me a pretty looong list of things to do. At least until I can find Lenny's boat-"

" _You what-?!_ " Nothing at first, like Bones was giving a quick and panicked glance back until he neared closely to the mic with a sharp whisper. " _Lenny's gonna kill you!_ "

"It's fine. It's exactly where I left it. More or less intact."

" _Wait, what did you say - know what? Forget it,_ " Bones groaned. " _Less I know, the better._ "

"It'll be fine. Don't be such a pickle."

" _That's what you think. I'm out of here when Lenny confronts you,_ " he whined. " _Still, good to hear from you, Jack._ "

"You can't get rid of me that easily," she joked, the dry sense of humor enough to bring out a chuckle from the dear lad.

Then it was back to business. " _So Scanderoon's outbreak. Any problem over there?_ "

"Other than the usual? Eeeh, not much. Well, maybe two or three."

" _Ugggh…Hang on."_ She could hear paper raffled and a pen clicked. " _I got my notebook ready._ "

"Well, one is Anitizin. They seem pretty stockpiled on it. I had to decline the doctor on the offer."

Her eyes streamed down to her arm, where one old bite wound was exposed to the world. Well, it and the eleven other teeth marks were bound to be discovered. By now, the Junction had spread the gossip about these wounds, besides her being the old retired kickboxer.

Yes, she was infected. One day, she was going to turn into those Biters. But that had never stopped her from her goals. She had come out triumphantly many times, even as an infected. But wounds like this could get a man killed because of paranoia. So the secret had to stay a secret after all. She pulled down her arm sleeve over the mark - no one would be the wiser unless they were a doctor.

" _Figures. You're gonna have to keep low on this one. Or you'll_ ** _die_ **_,_ " Bones uttered with great emphasis on the last word.

"Well, doesn't make it any easier. Once they hear word I'm avoiding Antizin, they're gonna lock me in a closet thinking I'll turn."

" _What are you gonna do?_ "

"What else? Make up excuses. Have to be careful around the Doc. Sharp fella for his age. Feels like Grandpa Otto was right here."

" _Well, better be ready to bolt before that happens. We can't lose you, Jack. Again._ "

"I hear you, I hear you," she remarked casually. "But I've already gave my word to stick around. These people need all the help they can get. The problem is a few are keeping a distance from me. One girl clearly shows that."

" _A girl? Is she cute?_ "

"I'm not playing matchmaker in a zombie apocalypse, Bones."

" _What? I wasn't saying that-_ "

"But you were hoping. Answer's no. She's too young. Back to business."

" _Alright, alright._ " She could picture the lad rolling his eyes on the other end. " _But seriously? Girls would run for the hills with one just one look at me._ "

"Now you're just being silly. You're still the young, handsome, charming lad you were before, Bones."

" _Suuure. Say that to my face again,_ " Bones mocked, disbelieving her words of comfort. " _Well, if you must gain the trust of the people, you'd better do a good job. Us Ravs have a reputation here too. Just don't forget your main task. We need to collect data from those infected._ "

"I've not forgotten. But you do know it's bound to get found out."

" _Then just lie! Or something. It's only an option-_ "

"It's the only option we've got. And I'd rather tell a bloody half-truth than a half-lie and piss them off more. Nobody wants that."

" _Man. Your damn honesty is gonna get you killed one of these days._ "

"Hey, telling the harsh truth beats being a lying wanker, right?"

" _Ha! Like you're not one when you're being truthful!_ " Bones uttered and gave up on his debate. " _Fine. Fine… So what else? It can't be that easy._ "

"I told you. Feels like I'm home again. It's no different here than the Outskirts. GRE's at one side of the Coast and there's also a bunch of thugs on the other end, causing up a storm."

" _Yup, sounds about right._ "

"Oh, and to top it all off, we have some cult in the Suburbans. With a sun symbol."

" _Sun?_ " Bones repeated. " _Think they're the people the Tower was looking into?_ "

"You realize how crazy that rumor sounds, right, Bones?"

" _That was the last thing they told me over the radio._ "

"A cult worshipping a sun is one thing. Domesticated zombies? Those people in the Countryside were smoking something, if you ask me."

" _Yeah but there's that sun symbol you just said. You told us yourself, don't leave any stone unturned. Maybe they're linked to why the Tower has gone quiet._ "

"The Tower and the Countryside are two different faraway places... But you are right. It's something worth checking out. This following here are doing some shady stuff other than praising their Sun god."

" _Do I wanna know?_ "

"Nope," she answered straightforwardly. "In other news, we've got two new infected we've never seen before. The first one, I didn't get a good look at. Was in the waters."

" _Oh greeeat. They're sharks now."_

"More like whales. Whatever that thing was, it nearly capsized the boat here."

 _"What's the second one?_ "

"Some sort of hunter. The guy in charge said they come out during the night."

" _Hunters? We don't have those in the Outskirts. The worst ones here are the Volatiles and Berserkers._ "

"This one's a little different. I saw it. In the day. Beating the living shit out of another infected."

" _...Ok, that does sound interesting. Zombies fighting each other..._ "

"Oh. It gets better. I think...and this is just a thought, I think it was punching. Feral but that was close hand combat I was seeing that bugger do."

There was a pause. Yup, a pause.

" _Ok, Jack. Be very honest with me. You're sure you didn't hit your head again?_ "

She almost hesitated. "Of course not," Jack droned. "I am perfectly sane. To a degree. And as crazy as it sounds, that was no original zombie I saw."

" _So what? They're becoming smarter? That can't be right._ "

"Maybe it was acting out?" she proposed. "Talo's always going on about them imitating like humans."

" _Yes. And he's a fucking conspiracy theorist. But it is a possibility. Or maybe… No way-_ "

"Spit it out, Bones. We should look into all possible means."

" _Maybe it still has its memory. Relying on past events and all that to be able to do punches. I don't know how they think. It's just a guess._ "

"A zombie with its memory intact. Sounds reasonable... And dangerous."

" _And I'm happy it's not here in the Outskirts… But it could make a good specimen to look into._ "

"So tag it and track it?"

" _That's what this project's for. Just find it, test your secret weapon on it and get its blood sample._ "

"Um… Yeah. About the samples."

" _What?_ "

"My bag fell off the boat. With the syringes."

A long-winded, aggravated whine seeped through the line. " _Jaaaaack,_ " he groaned. " _Tell me you've at least have the trackers on you._ "

Jack fished out a small plastic bag with tiny devices inside. What she had expected from the professionals were actually the kind she saw in those animal documentaries. Instead, thanks to a few minds like Bones, they took a couple of finder devices - the ones people use to look for lost keys and all that - and tweaked the chips inside before soldering clips and hooks to them.

And they were in a waterproof zip bag. "They're dry. You sure these will work?"

" _Codebreaker increased the range. We'll be able to see any you tag on the whole map even from the Outskirts. Same goes for the app we gave you. Unless you dropped your phone in the water too,_ " Bones snapped.

"No, of course not." She traded the next thing with the bag. Her cheap-ass phone - cracked and soaked. The screen made it partially hard to read. No matter how many times she tapped and shook it, it wasn't gonna get fixed instantly. It had never been a source of contact - everything, from phonecalls to chatrooms, has been jammed down some time ago and only two months or three ago did some communication came back on. Just the internet was still down. But some of the apps still worked, especially her game. "SD's still intact." Another groan out of her listener but she swiftly assured him. "I'll get a new phone. Someone around here's bound to know where I can get one."

A sigh of annoyance and defeat. " _Fine. Get everything you need. And don't kill the Special._ "

"Easier said than done. You know that."

" _Yes. And this makes it even harder because you don't have the syringes to draw blood. I'll let Ender and Riza know-_ "

"No need, no need. I'll look around at the hospital."

" _Jack, those are special syringes. You can't find them at just any hospital-_ "

"I can surely find them at some Killboxes. Just don't send those two here. This is a solo mission for me."

" _Jack-_ "

"I'll be fine. Don't you worry, mate," again she reassured him, despite how unconvinced he sounded. "I'll call in again when I find a specimen."

 _Beep!_

She cut the conversation there. There was no need for the lad to continue - she knew where the talk was heading. No, she had to do this alone: fewer casualties, the better. She couldn't involve anyone else new into this project either. The less people knew, the less hope they could bet on the results...

 _Put your mind on work Jackie. You've been on the job alone several times._ She thought back on her list of things to do - certainly a lot put on her plate. But it was nothing she couldn't handle. And she had the entire coast of Scanderoon to go around at her own pace. Maybe she could even visit some old and new sights in between jobs.

"Well, Jackie. Time for work."

She wheeled around-

"Geezus!" she shrieked, jumping back from the face that popped out of nowhere behind her. She didn't even hear the rusty door creak open or Siv walking right behind her. "Ah! Hahaha. Woo! You nearly gave me a heart attack, dearie. Oh, oh, oooh!" Jack heaved in a deep breath. "How long...have you been there for?"

"Enough to know that I'm a problem to you," Siv scoffed irritably.

Oh. She heard that. Well, then. That gave her a gauge which part of the conversation the teen was more peeved at but it didn't tell her if she heard the whole thing or not.

"Don't you know it's wrong to eavesdrops on people's conversation, princess-"

" ** _Don't_** fucking call me ' _princess_ '," Siv hissed, stabbing a finger close to Jack. "Right now, you're at the bottom of the food chain inside these walls."

"Alright. I apologize." Nope, not even a crack of a smile off the uptight girl's face. "So...what does the royal Highness want from the underdog today?"

The girl grimaced darkly but she bit down whatever retort she wanted to throw at her. "You're with me on drop duty."

"My first assignment of the day?"

"Mahir put me up to this. He may have given you a pat on the back but you're gonna do a lot more than just talk your way around things." She jabbed her finger into the ex-kickboxer. "The moment you do shit, I'm pushing you right out there as zombie food. Got that?"

Talk about hostility. This kid did not like having anyone older than her worming their way into her circle.

"Crystal clear, dearie."

The girl scrunched up her pretty face, hating the loosely-tonged response Jack gave. She marched right off to the other side of the roof.

"Yup. Totally like Champ," Jack muttered to herself. She heaved a grim sigh, and with a brushing of dirt from her gloves, she exclaimed gleefully, "Well then, no rest for the wicked."

* * *

Back onto the wagon, she followed after the young teenager. With some challenges along the way - the rooftop was clustered with all sorts, from ventilation shafts and small made-shift watchtowers. The place was prepared for the worst and had endured for two weeks. Still, it wasn't easy for Jack's feet, with the kid years younger than her and ordering her to do leapfrogs.

C'mon, she didn't need a tutorial, Jack thought to herself.

"Would you hurry up, lazybones?"

"Alright, alright. Bossy," Jack uttered. She could have talked back but there was no need to sour the mood further - her very presence has already done that to Siv inside these walls. Jack was about to ask the question, how they were going to leave, until she spotted their means of exit. "Ziplines."

Besides through the front gates, there had been another way of leaving the Junction - if one was a runner. Metal cables ran across the industrial district's canopy from the warehouse's rooftops: north, south, the sides, everywhere. Minimized the chances of any infected to waltz in every time the gates opened - unless they could fly. A perfect and safe way of leaving and entering the Junction, So long as the other tops of the buildings were zombie-free.

"If you wanna stroll down there, be my guest."

"I'll pass," Jack exclaimed. "But, uh, you sure this is safe?"

It sounded like a dumb question, forcing Siv to remark, "Safer than down there."

"That's true. But those ziplines are going up, not-"

Siv pulled out a rope ascender from her belt, an eyebrow cocked up. "What? You think I'm gonna climb my way?"

Smart. "Don't suppose you have a spare-" The teenager was already off, the device swooshing loudly along the metal line. "Ok. Let me take the long way 'round then."

The youngster seriously was not going to make things easy for Jack. But that didn't fret to the brunette. This walk together could become a good bonding moment between them, a chance to open up.

"Just take it as exercise, Jackie. You've been out for a day anyway."

A day. Yeah, right. She felt like she had gone cold for weeks. But remembering some parkour moves particularly was a good refresher course. Traversing over fences, moving along thin ledges by the fingers, freerunning across the roofs, this was easy.

Ok, that was a lie to herself. She was still rusty at these things.

"You sure know the basics," Siv pointed, slightly impressed that the 'Granny' could keep up.

"Learned them from my cousin. And I traded him self-defense from me."

"Right. You said you were an instructor?"

"Not yet. Had the papers and gym ready before all hell broke loose," Jack breathed. She didn't forget she was hanging by a thread as she moved about, one glance at herself for getting this far. "...This isn't half bad."

"Your cousin didn't teach you enough."

"I didn't teach him enough either," she chided, taking Siv's hand to be hurled up onto the next roof. "I wasn't gonna give him the upper hand."

"Hmph." That little small joke wasn't enough to crack through the teenager's thick shield. This was gonna take a while, Jack told herself.

"Hey, rookie. Gimme a hand." Their first stop was a set of coastal townhouses that had been blocked out at the ground levels and severely damaged by intense rainwater. At the last house, Siv pointed to a dunnage rack on the second floor.

"Rookie? Why - ok, fine." Jack held back the lip. She'd let it slide. This one time. "How about a please?"

"And you're not my mom. Move it," Siv ordered. "Don't pull your back."

"Hreh hreh," Jack mocked. She wasn't old. But she wished she could retract that statement. Because "Omph! This thing weighs a ton!"

"Told ya."

But Jack could see why: the young girl saw this as a bridge to help them cross the gap of splinters and beams. They set it down quietly - just because the architectural canopies were easy to move about didn't mean they weren't entirely safe. Off the runner went across it like it was nothing, not even the shaking and the creeping scared her.

Ok, Jack might as well instigate the conversation. Get the ball rolling and the ice melting.

"I find it baffling for someone your age is doing errands," she exclaimed, following after the young girl. "Or running around town for that matter."

"Mahir needs all the hands he can get. No complaints there."

"So he lets you go? Alone?"

"We've got teams. But I don't see a point in sending more than two people to collect an airdrop close here."

"Your parents must be terrified if they heard you were doing this."

"Wouldn't know."

Jack almost stopped. "They're not in the city?"

"My dad left me when I was ten."

Oh, dear. She stepped on a landmine. "Sorry to hear that… So it's just you and your mother?"

"Hm." Not much of a yes or a no there.

"Is she at the Junction?"

"She's not _in_ Scanderoon. Haven't heard a word from her since the first outbreak started."

And a second one! _Terrific, Jack. You're one step closer to being bubbies with this girl._

"I'm sure she's fine."

"Hmph." There was a spiteful tone on the girl's tongue. "I wouldn't know. She sent me to be with my relatives, all because she had to join the other physicians at the first sign of the symptoms in Harran."

Oh dear. Mommy issues. And a woman in the medical profession who picked the health of others over her daughter.

"She did it for a cause, I guess."

"She did it because her _fucking boyfriend_ was there! What else?! And my teacher, _for fuck's sake!_ "

 _Wow! Ok. Really need to stop, Jack._ But she tempted fate again.

"Do you miss her?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Which meant "step over the fourth or fifth landmine and I'll break your nose." Jack compelled silently, although she'd certainly wanna see how this girl fight - a poor jab that she could parry away. Still, this girl had good speed over strength. Mahir was right about her. She was shooting her way across the slidings and pipes, as quick as another she knew. If the kid were to take a lesson from Jack, she could deliver many blows accumulated than harder ones at the price of losing their momentum.

"C'mon. This way."

"I know another kid who's into parkour." The young runner's shoulders showed it clearly: the rambling of a stranger made her irk despite the warning she gave. Was the old bat trying to get on her good side? Because it wasn't going to work. "Older than you. Yaps a lot, gets in a lot of trouble but has his heart in the right place."

"Sounds more like my 'senior'. He never shuts up to any newcomer taking the course."

"Sounds awful. But what I meant that for the both of you, I can see you're good on your feet."

Siv glanced back with a raised eyebrow. What was this sugar talking for?

"I told you, my cousin taught me parkour too. It's all about skill and training. Even determination. Gives me a perspective of how much he and the kid loves it. Hell, you just darted across three houses and you're braver than me with heights."

"C'mon," Siv barked, a little tamer than before. "You're a kickboxer. You fight people."

"That's what I'm excellent at. I've stayed a champion for as long as I could."

"Until someone else took it."

"Yup," Jack uttered proudly. A strange tone for Siv to hear from here - she had the impression that for a retired, arrogant professional like Jack, she would have thought the old bat would be a little resentful. "It's a passion for me. Just like it is my cousin and that kid."

"Passion... Kinda wish that's my reason doing parkour now," Siv confessed. "Now I'm using it just to survive."

"Well, you gotta use everything you have these days. Any skill can save you, passionate or compulsory."

That was the common ground Jack could pull them on. They and everyone else in this city, in Harran, had the same goal when it comes to the outbreak and like everyone, they had to survive. Jack could see some emotional weight on the girl's shoulders: she had seen her own fair share of nightmares and lived to tell the tales. But the hard shell has told Jack that the young girl hasn't told anyone about her ordeals these two weeks. Or maybe that nobody has had the time to listen to her.

Now Jack wondered...how that boy doing back in Harran? He should be fine. He had her sister. They were fine.

They had to be.

"So people call you Wild Dog." The silence and small ball of worry broke apart by Siv's voice. The door was gaped open just a little, enough for her curiosity to wander out. "Why that name?"

"Ah, well. Wasn't my idea," Jack mumbled. "My manager saw what I could do. 'As rabid as the stray dogs of Harran', he said. And I lived up to the name by-"

"By biting off someone's ear, right? Will said that."

Ugh, she had to bring that out. "Ok. No holding it back now. Yeah, I bit people. A bit of the low side but it's enough to make them flinch."

"Isn't that illegal in kickboxing?"

"Ehhhh, why yes. It was only that one time."

"One time. Yeah right. You make it sound like you've had more than _just_ normal fights."

Damn, this kid was sharp. Jack could straight out lie or avert the conversation elsewhere. But the world was damned now, who would care about consequences and karma. Plus, she wasn't good at lies anyway.

"Alright. I won't deny it. You meet all sorts of contacts, good and bad. Everyone had to start getting their hands dirty in this world."

"And you got the name, Mad Jack from one of those fights, right?"

"You know, I don't remember when they started chanting that name… Was it in Rennes or Paris…"

"You've been to France?" Siv uttered, awe slapped on her voice at hearing someone had been to another country.

"Started in France, then Turkey, Iran, went everywhere. But once I signed up officially, Mert took me anywhere that had a good fight."

"Mert. He's your manager, right?"

"Manager and trainer. I owe a lot to him for everything. Helped me stay focused till my retirement… The only problem was the unwanted baggage that followed me into my career days."

"Baggage?"

"Like I said. You meet all sorts of contact. But Mert didn't really care... Guess we were both hoping that baggage would leave me alone. Learn to move on."

"They didn't, did they?" Siv started with a wary step into the conversation.

Jack bit her lip hard, stifling down the provoked flames with a deep breath. She was the one who let that little detail slipped out - she asked for it. "Most people never do. They can't take no for an answer."

"Sounds like a story you don't wanna talk about it."

"It's an indefinite story."

It wasn't harsh - Jack had learned to always keep her anger in check unless it was out in the ring or to a dumbass. But it was enough to tell the kid not to step over the line, nervously rubbing her arm. The young girl wasn't too fretted by the soft mild-tempered remark since she had been given Jack a hard time from the start. But the silence was...heavy.

"So...any scars?"

Jack hunched her eyebrows at the surprise-attack question. "I'm sorry?"

There was a hint of hesitation in the young girl's body A slight tint of regret, maybe feeling at fault for nearly bringing up an old wound. Then Siv pushed forward with a boot of tenacity. "Scars. Will said you were pretty beaten up. And...you know, being bitten too."

"Don't fret, love. This virus isn't going to stop me." _So please drop the topic, it's not your concern._

"Sure..." She was wary but she didn't pry. "What about broken bones? From your fighting days. Wrestling's all about getting the pain, right?"

"Kickboxing. There's a fine difference."

"Ok. What is it then?" Siv remarked snippily.

"Wrestling is locking and holding your opponent to overpower them. Kickboxing is striking your enemy."

"So what? You ku-fung your way around-"

"Sorta. It has a mixture of techniques. But every form of martial art doesn't come without some scrapes. I've gotten a broken rib once. A few kicks to the head-"

"Wait, really?" Siv exclaimed.

"That's the risk of headbutting in the ring. In any combat sport. Either one of us ends up with jam in their head."

"Your head's not like swiss cheese, is it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Despite Jack's wide smirking and cheery chuckle, Siv couldn't tell if she literally meant she did or didn't. Still, the kid refrained from probing. "But if anything, it was all worth it in the end…"

There was a sense of pride, like a veteran mesmerizing the old days. So she really was a granny, Siv thought to herself. But she didn't throw salt on to the wound with that remark out loud when she peeked over her shoulder to see the peaceful, satisfied beam on the woman's face.

"So where's this drop?"

"Up ahead. Just need to cross one more threshold."

Good. Should be a smooth retrieval. That was until they walked around the bend.

"Whoa, whoa. Ok, no."

"What?"

Between two buildings, before the two ladies, was one threshold all right. A radio tower had snapped off - bashed down by a downed helicopter lying on the road. The metal structure had fallen down and now days later, it was a bridge for the runner. But that wasn't the main concern. It was the height.

"That's a fifty-foot drop."

Siv simply peered over the edge. "Actually, sixty-five. Estimate."

"Clever," Jack mockingly exclaimed and glanced around. "But seriously. There should be another way around-"

"Aren't you Mad Jack? Don't you take any sort of risks?"

"Back in my glory days. Not in a zombie-filled city."

"So what?" Siv spread out her arms, readying a cheeky taunt. "You're chicken?"

Seriously? This kid was going to test this woman's patience? "Mad Jack ain't chicken."

"Bwak, bwak! Bwaak!"

Neither ladies knew they were being watched. Not too far away from their location, the golden eyes hawked eerily - the unnatural monochromatic vision strikingly contrasted the smaller highlighted prey as she flapped her folded arms. It was ticing the predator to come after her. The size wasn't enough to satisfy its hunger but she'd make for an easy kill-

 _No! No! Stop! STOP! Not a child -_ **_Shut up!_**

"Ok, ok," the female adult uttered with a warm laugh and the golden eyes fixated on her. "But this tower's better be stable, kid."

"Relax. Runners go through here all the time."

Focus on the goal, it told itself. Themselves. The human in red was their target, her! The infected creature tried to steady itself, keep the quenching bloodthirst in check. It would have its chance to let the anger do the talking, once they'd pounce on her and bite down on her neck. Even tear that head off again.

It couldn't let her go on. If she was really back, she would be nothing but trouble. Just like before. Her and her fucking morals. She couldn't exist anymore! She couldn't fuck someone else up like she did to him!

 _I'm gonna kill you._

Jack wheeled back to the sound. But was it really sound? It was a strange scratch at the back of her head, just enough to be mistaken as a soft, harsh whisper to her ear.

Was it the wind?

She combed the rooftops around. But there was no one around, except the sluggish walkers in the urban canopy.

"Something's wrong?"

"Um… Sorry. Thought I heard something."

"You better be alright. Or I'm leaving you behind, slowpoke."

"Yeah, yeah."

Siv was gone with a skip, far too fast for Jack's liking. Seriously, how was this kid able to keep it straight on such shaky obstacles? Hell, she just jumped over a good six feet gap.

Well, she wasn't gonna be left behind. With a deep breath - first, a few steps back for a running start - Jack leapt off.

 _BAM!_

" ** _Fuck's sake!_** " she shrieked, her top half holding on top to the tail-end of the radio tower and her legs dangling over the edge. _Creeeee-thu-thu-thu!_ The metal groaned loudly at the sudden shift of weight but it didn't bend like she had thought it would. She hurried back up and gripped the railing so tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"See? You did good for your first jump."

"Yeah. Ahahaha... Just a little winded." She made the foolish decision to look over her shoulder. Oomph, the height. She felt like she could be pushed off by the wind like paper. "Bloody hell. That's a long way down!" Stupid to say again, but man, did it send shivers down her spine. She gave out a loud, nervous laugh. "Gives you one heck of a thriller!"

"Ha." Jack could have sworn she saw a little creak of a grin from the young girl. "You should try the clocktower. It's one dozy-"

Siv suddenly stopped in front of Jack. She wobbled unexpectedly on the dwelling, not going forward or backwards. Her right hand drifted far too slowly to her head.

"Siv?"

The swaying of her body was getting worse. Right before Jack's eyes, the teenager timbered over the side.

"SIV!"

The brunette ran full speed as the tower creaked louder and louder from her hurried steps. The fear of watching the girl fall off overtook her fear of falling off herself if she were to misstep through the gaps. It didn't matter - the girl's life was at stake. Quickly, in just the nick of time, Jack dove across the edge and latched onto Siv's wrist.

"I got you!" Jack hollered. "Pull up!"

At first, the girl didn't even lift her other arm. Not a head, a twitch, nothing. Shit! What has happened to her? But, thankfully and finally, Siv started to stir up. The black-haired teenager first shook her head for a moment and drowsily comprehended the peril she was in. Like snapping out of a daze, she quickly pulled herself up.

"Come on!"

Once the youngster was over the railing, both women rolled over onto the more stable part of the fallen tower. That was way too close for comfort but certainly not over. Jack examined her thoroughly - Siv was now lying on the ground like a fetus, hands on head and knees buckled, like something heavy was upon her. She _did not_ look alright.

"What were you thinking?! You could have gotten yourself killed!" Jack snapped. "Siv, your head."

There was a bit of bleeding coming from an opened knob on her forehead. She must have hit herself on the metal bars.

"S-Sorry…" Siv apologized, barely hearing her. Ok, now that terrified Jack. "Just had...a bit of a spasm.."

"A seizure?" She got nothing of a reply. At first, it was just a thought: people can have normal reasons for sudden seizures. But in this outbreak, that idea had to be immediately pushed aside first. It prompted Jack to examine Siv once more until she spotted the clue. She grabbed one arm and turned it over.

A bite mark.

"You were bitten too." Nothing again out of the young runner. But it was clear as day, the signs were there before Jack. "Siv? Siv. When was your last Antizin dosage?" she called out to her.

"Three days ago… But I shouldn't be feeling the effects..."

"What?" That was strange. But not important right now. "We're going back to the Junction."

"No! No," Siv demanded, forcing herself back up but that only tumbled her on her rear. With Jack nearby, holding her by the arms, Siv managed to regain back her footing. She squeezed her eyes tightly, hoping that would get rid of the fits. "We got to get to that drop first!"

"There will always be other airdrops. Not another Siv. Now come on-"

"I'm fine! Really!" The young teenager straightened up again and held out her hands, palms flat. "See? No shakes. It was just a fluke... I'll get another dose afterwards."

Jack let a pause pass by, at first waiting for the girl to change her mind and follow her back. In this changing world, stubbornness could send you down a one-way trip over yonders. But the girl simply frowned even more - visually telling her she'd leave her behind and get the drop herself.

Ugh. It was like dealing with a clone of that rival of hers, with the difference of the years and experience. And Jack knew she wasn't going to back down. One more examination on Siv told the brunette that she seemed fine.

But what about the next time?

"Let's just get to the other side."

Siv seemed reluctant at first but agreed. She didn't need a second telling. Jack kept a close eye on her, readying herself to reach out at a moment's collapse.

"Let me fix your head first," she proposed once they reached safety.

"I'm fine. It's not like I'm gonna get infected again."

Jack simply folded her arms with a disapproving frown. "First important rule. Your body is your tool. Don't be an idiot or it'll break on you."

"Who said that kind of philosophical shit?"

"My manager. Mert." Siv's scoffed face immediately scrunched up, like she had spat on someone's grandfather's grave. But Jack didn't take it as an offense. "He's right though. Now sit tight."

This time, there wasn't any fighting from the teenager. So she was gonna listen to an adult this one time. Jack's new task of the day was set and she searched for the needed materials - gauze, alcohol and duct tape to hold the bandage together. She had to drop to the floor below for a further search but she managed to find everything. Now for the wound.

"Ssssk!" the kid hissed at the sting. But the pain was gone once the duct tape was over her forehead.

"There we go," Jack exclaimed. "We really should get Doc to check on you-"

"I'm good. Really." Siv grimaced at the unconvinced expression the ex-kickboxer was giving. "We've not gotten anything these past two days and it's dampening up everyone's mood. We need something to cheer everyone up. And-"

"Ok, ok," Jack answered begrudgingly. Better for her to stay with her until they'd return to the Junction then for the teenage to get mad and run off. "But the moment you start going crazy, I'm taking you back."

Siv scoffed, leaping right off her seat. Right as rain. "You should be smashing my brains out when that happens. Come on. We're getting close."

The runner trotted off, climbing her way down the insides of the building. They had a job to finish.

Jack didn't follow at first.

"...Yeah… Let's just hope that never happens…"

* * *

A/N: Writing these chapters as well as revamping old chapters for the Descent are somehow enjoyable to me because I think the rhythm is like playing a game. As well as any chapter that has Jack's color personality in it (ok, I think for any writer out there, writing their OC is always fun to do). She's kinda like Chole from Uncharted, with a bit of fury from Rachel from Animorphs and several traits from the Leverage series.

Anyhow, this chapter has helped me a bit more on how to shape the game world up. I've been doing intensive research to make a neighboring city to Harran and finding the historical name, Scanderoon (which btw, the current city we know today is called İskenderun, a district in the Hattay province, on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey). What my ideal city is gonna be will also offer a lot of things, like quests, landmarks, means to travel other than parkour, etc.

Anyhow, hope you guys like this chapter and actually, I've finished the next draft of chapter two. So I think really soon, once I'm done with editing, I can upload it! :D

16/10/19 - Revamped chapter 2 and took a bit from chp 3. You might expect one later chp to be a gap down the line if you're binging through. Be patient and the new chps will be up/replaced. Enjoy. 22/10/19 - Reedited for minor mistakes and errors.


	3. TWO: WILD DOG

Chapter Summary

 **\- FIRST JOB**

 _First day at the Junction and things aren't that terrific. Siv's a concern, not because of how much she might have heard...but how much she's been through. Like everyone else. I better keep an eye on her. - Jack_

* * *

 **TWO: WILD DOG**

* * *

The descent down the radio building was slow for Jack. For the young runner, Siv simply bounced down each floor without any difficulty or sudden interruptions. She had brushed her trial off as if nothing had happened and her pace was quicker than before. Either because they were close to the airdrop or that she was trying to keep the act up. She was fine! Nothing wrong with the black-haired teenager.

But Jack didn't buy it, quietly keeping her eyes on the young girl at any sign. Any tall tale. That little scare took a year out of her.

"Hey, c'mon, Slowpoke. It's right here!" Siv barked below.

They might as well finish the job, now that they were close to the finishing line. The faster they got the Antizin, the faster Jack could bring her back to the Junction. Not the way back, that was for sure. Vehicles were out of the question as well - too much noise and few roads packed with abandoned cars.

She'd have to think about it a little later. Now was the drop. The flare smoke was within sight around the next block - their destination being a parking lot near the highway. Empty with no stir of life and un-death behind the busted wire fence. But at the center of the concrete park was the very red container they had been looking for.

"And there we go!"

"Hey. Slow down," Jack warned but the youngster was already off, without any wiser that there could be trouble. The ex-kickboxer scanned her eyes about for anything - a surprise Bomber around the corner, a pack of raiders who spotted the red smoke first, any sort of enemy.

One could never be too cautious.

"Told ya it was just a simple collection," Siv proudly proclaimed, folding her arms with a boastful inhale. "One airdrop of rations, first-aid and most importantly, Antizin."

It warranted out a small chuckle from the adult. Guessed Siv had never been taken seriously before. She most certainly expressed it while Jack took the time to open up the airdrop.

"And Mahir thought it was all too risky to go three streets away on my own. 'Take the newcomer with you. She'll help you with it.' Ha! Now he can get off my back-"

"Um, Siv?"

The buckles were clicked open and the lid was off. Jack had the same expectation Siv said about the contents but one look at it said that Siv was _half_ -right. On one side of the box, rations to last a week for a group of six. However, the other side of the box was something new to Jack. She had opened boxes like these before, back in the Outskirts. Carefully, she pulled the first item out into the light. Oh, yes. Jack's eyes didn't need checking. It was solid in her hand.

It was a grenade.

A real, **_live_** grenade.

"Do drops normally contain military-grade weapons and explosives?"

"What? Of course not! Have you never opened an airdrop be-?" The young girl joined her and immediately her eyes widened. That was a grenade the newcomer was holding. No, the rest of the content shouldn't even be in that box! She could see ammo boxes, pistols, rifles - rockets too?! Wait, were those **_landmines_ **she spotted?! "Holy - this is enough to take out an army."

"Or a horde of zombies," Jack pointed. "Maybe even more."

"W-What? Wait, hang on." Siv took a step back. "Why are they dropping in stuff like this? We need Antizin. We don't need _these_ \- well. Ok, we could use them but, fuck."

Then Jack heard it.

 _Click_

-the tiny sound of an assault rifle echoed behind them, dangerously terrifying enough to make chills run down both their backs. Immediately, a voice hollered out, "Freeze!"

Jack didn't see any raiders that could have taken the jump on them, or Specials at the corner of the eye. But she didn't think their new guests would come from behind them.

"Turn around!"

Jack stayed calm and peeked over to her companion. Unlike her, the young girl was scared with trembling stiff arms. In the seconds, Siv held her breath as she shot a panicked glance at the adult of the group - looking for any notion on what the fuck should they do. Jack quietly gestured a nod - she's got this - and they slowly turned around. Behind them stood two men. Soldiers in armor, enough protection from bites but with enough lightness for mobility. But the more striking, terrifying thing were the guns drawn out, pointed dead at them and not even a care that they were in a place where risen corpses would rush to the gunfire. It was something out of an action-packed movie Siv had watched once but they didn't look like the normal-looking military kind. In fact, one logo told jer a whole different story.

The acronym, GRE, was printed on their attire.

Shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, _oh, shit._ This wasn't good, Siv thought.

"Put your hands up!" one of them barked. American voice.

Siv quickly did as she was told. Jack silently refused.

Breath in. Nobody noticed the brunette counting to three with her free hand. 1, 2, 3. Breath out.

She examined her opponents like a quiet she-wolf against two outsiders - too naive and immature to know they have stepped into her territory. But she waited for their first step - their posture, attire and the way they held their guns showed their confidence in their skills. The grunts were hired hands, the kind anyone - the crooks, the rich or the corporates - would employ for a decent amount of pay. The two men clearly had experience in close combat but totally relied too much on ammo. Basically, jarheads that had tunnel vision.

She could take them. Just needed to do three things: disarm one, disarm the other before he could shoot, and make sure Siv stay out of the way. Easier said than done. But she had handled far worse situations before...

For now, the best choice of action was to keep a note on their moves while distancing them from Siv.

The man on the left holstered up his walkie-talkie. "HQ. We've got two survivors here."

"We're not zombies, you fucking assholes," Siv hissed.

"Shhh," Jack hushed cooly. The chances they had at keeping things calm, the better they had of leaving out without any injury.

"Roger that." The soldier lifted his rifle back, tightly on the girls. "Shoot them."

And the situation escalated. Great.

"What?" his partner uttered, no doubt with wide eyes behind his protective eye gear. There was a moment of hesitation, trailing back and forth to Siv. "But she's just a kid."

"Orders are orders, Serge. They're no different than those infected." No sense of mercy out of this one. He could be trouble, Jack thought. While she was keeping watch, Siv couldn't believe what she had heard. Fucking GRE was branding them as Virals immediately!

"W-We're not infected!" the girl tried to defend. Dumb thing to say, they _were_ infected. But Jack shouldn't be the one to take her fall, all because she decided to go after the airdrop with just herself and Jack. Siv was regretting her decision now.

"Move to the wall. Now!"

Siv jumped with gritted teeth, almost ready to do as she was told. But Jack remained still. She was stern.

Breath in. Her fingers counting 1, 2, 3. Breath out.

"Are you deaf or something?!" The aggressive soldier trotted towards her, jamming the nuzzle into her chest. Pointed right at her heart. "Put your hands up and move it!"

She wasn't budging.

"I said do it! Or I'll shoot you!" The tone was getting as itchingly heated as the finger on the trigger.

So she shrugged her shoulders. Well, he asked for it.

She raised up her hands and behind the gas masks, the two grunts' eyes widened at the sight in Jack's righty. The one soldier in front of her quickly backed a good five-feet jump away.

After all, she still had the lovely grenade in her hand.

"Whoops. Looks like my finger's stuck on the pin." Jack's little pinky had slipped through the small little ring, giving a provocative twitch at the men. For anyone, that was the most horrifying thing she could have done. Even Siv stared at her with sweating palms - _she had a grenade in her hand!_ But what made the terror spiked even more was the woman holding a bomb was absolutely calm. "Now ten hut, men. Time to listen well. If you don't want all of us blowing to kingdom come, then you're gonna drop your weapons and stand ten feet away from us."

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Siv whispered.

Jack gave a short, gentle wave with her free hand - visually telling Siv it was going to be all right. Kinda. She had to try, at least. "Now my friend and I are gonna go through the back. And you're going to stay and give us a ten-minute running start."

The hot-headed brute then tilted his gun up-

"Nah-ah!" Jack shook one index finger, like a disappointed teacher scolding a student for trying, ruler ready for the slap. "You sure you wanna do that? My finger could slip if you shoot me. And even if you survive the explosion, the noise's gonna attract a lot of attention."

"You're bluffing," he scoffed.

Jack merely smirked. With a casual shrug, she reached out to the pin. "Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you-"

"NO! NO! Wait!"

"STOP! STOP!"

She obeyed the men's pleads, slowly putting away her free hand from the pin. But the grenade stayed up.

 _Oh my god,_ Siv thought. No way was she gonna take her with them, right? She swallowed, still holding her breath from the near attempt but Siv stayed put on the spot. She had to trust Jack now, whatever plan she was cooking up had to save both of them. She had to rely on the crazy woman if she wanted to live.

Because Jack had that confident, cold look that told the young girl this wasn't her first time. "Now. Would you gents be so kind and grant a lady's wish? We don't have all day."

"...Fine. Fine." Slowly, the two men dropped their guns to the floor.

"Backups too."

They clearly grimaced. This wasn't an amateur they were dealing with. Without hesitation, more out of spite, the handguns were grudgingly taken out of their holsters and kicked aside.

"Back away slowly. Eyes front."

Siv wasn't too sure if the ex-kickboxer meant it for the ladies themselves or the grunts. But once the men obeyed with three steps back, Jack took two big ones back. So carefully, Siv did the same. She couldn't believe they were doing this, that for an insane plan like that, it was working. Ha! They might get out of this alive!

The teenager didn't notice the left man slowly slip his gloved hand behind his back, fingers touching the hilt of a hidden survival knife. His eyes were now on the naive little girl. Just one toss-

 _Not giving you the chance!_ Jack thought.

"Move!"

 _Shiink!_

Out went the pin. Jack pitched the live hot potato hard and the little deadly thing bounced towards a nearby pillar of a highway as she sprinted, grabbing the frightened Siv by the shoulders.

"Get down!" the right man hollered. Just like from the movies.

 _BOOM!_

Rubble flew everywhere, separating the two groups apart. A sharp ringing shot through Siv's ears. She barely registered a portion of the upper road collapsing down or her body moving on its own. No, it was Jack taking her away to safety. Eventually, the ringing stopped and her vision cleared. The two men didn't follow after them.

Then the loud screams came from everywhere.

"Shit! They're coming!"

"What are you waiting for?! Shoot them! Shoot them!"

"Run!" she heard Jack order.

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

The runners bolted, Siv taking the front with Jack right behind. The ex-kickboxer ignored the panicked wails of the two GRE soldiers and the firing going off - better them being ravaged than her and the kid. Now the focus was getting themselves out alive. With more infected swimming at the sides, splashing through the tilted fences and over past panic-stricken vehicles, it was a race to get to high ground before the two women were pulled in by the sea of the undead.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Uh, uh - this way!"

She spotted Siv ushering her towards a warehouse two streets ahead, much smaller than the Junction. Doors were closed but not the second-floor window. The teenager immediately leapt onto a car, then a crashed truck and up a rainpipe. Jack followed the same path both hopping inside.

"Whoa!" A hiss to Siv's right made her sidestep. A Viral out the door and blood-red eyes locked onto her-

"Get away from her!" Jack was in thug mode. With a charge, she shoved her shoulder into the zombie and its body tumbled down a set of metal stairs. "Go! Lead!"

Siv took towards the roof again, headstrong on leading! She was the only guide right now for Jack, knowing the streets far better than her. But they were reaching the end of the rooftop - there was nowhere else to go but to drop down into the gathering horde.

The young runner fished out her rope ascender and quickly snapped it on their only saving grace of escape - zipline. "Jump!"

They were off the roof, one by one with leaps of fate. The brunette quickly lassoed her arms around the girl's waist as Siv started the ride, up, up the line. The shrieking of metal biting metal got louder and louder.

"Hang on!"

"What do you think I'm doing?!"

" ** _Hang on!_** " again, Siv hollered. This time, for the impact.

" _OH SHIT!_ "

 _KA-CRASH!_

Color-stained glass shattered and rained down over their rolling bodies across the red-carpeted floor. They have made an undesirable entrance into a church, the vandalism a sinful act committed to the holy building. But surely, just this one time, they could be pardoned under the eyes from way up above, for seeking sanctuary on such short notice. Just this one time. And it seemed like the higher up answered them - the place of worship had no surprising zombies nearby. The girls were safe and they were also in a great deal of pain from their tumble, fatigue from their escape and elation for being alive.

"I so need one of those zipline thingies…" Jack groaned on the floor.

Siv was halfway up, palm on a knee. "Are you a lunatic?!" she panted heavily. "You could have gotten us killed!"

Jack drew circles in the air with a finger. "Never a dull day when you're with me. Hahah... I think you'd make a good Rav member with that bullshit stunt you did back there."

"Really?" Siv uttered with a ting of surprise and excitement. Then with a shake of the head and a swallowed-up breath, she climbed up on her feet. "Be serious. I can't just leave everyone at the Junction."

"Hey, you don't have to. It's just handshakes and doing the instigation, just basic stuff. An honorary member. Dental's free by the way."

Siv chuckled loudly. The youngster still needed to progress everything: she was put at gunpoint, nearly eaten by zombs and was next to a mad self-defense instructor holding a _grenade_ as her negotiation point. She should have been yelling at this cuckoo old hag for putting her own life on the line. But out of this wacky, panic-stricken, fruitless trip, it looked like Jack's personality had finally won her.

"You have one sick sense of humor, you know that." She reached for Jack's hand and hosted the brunette up on her feet. "Hahaha...heh…" There was an odd ending to the teenager's laughter for some reason.

"Well, that's what everyone keeps telling-" Jack turned around and her wide grin faded in an instant, her heart jumping straight up to her throat. The color in her face washed away just like Siv's did. "-me."

Again, they weren't alone. A survivor could never be alone in the middle of this outbreak.

Men were predictable. Jack could read the moves on the go and before they could even touch her, she would be delivering a serving of pain three folds. Years of experience, reading the subtle reactions in a human body became almost second nature. Picking on the lies between the lines was never difficult for her to pick on. A fighter in both physical and verbal combat, Jack has always learned to be prepared to notice on any little detail. As long as she could take notes of their patterns, movements, habits, she could turn it around and do a simple take out. Whether with fists or not.

An infected was different.

You can never reason with a zombie. The mind was gone for them, after all, reverting humanity into an animal. They spontaneously attack, pull a 180 sometimes and if they were lucky, manage to give a turnaround on Jackie herself. She had several close calls over the last few months.

She recognized the head covering, the jacket and those animalistic eyes. Inside their sanctuary, a Hunter was right before them, growling a low clicking sound. Somehow, during their moment of respite, the large predator slipped in and made its stance on top of the pedestal before two nicely prepared preys.

Jack had only one thought in her mind. And she absentmindedly mumbled it out.

"Well, hello again, mate."

* * *

Siv was frozen with fear.

There were many times she had felt all sorts of terror. The first was seeing her strong-willed mother in tears and cigarette smoke after her father left and never came back - Siv was too young to understand the reason behind the divorce. The second was glancing down from the edge of the highway in the Slums, seeing the people below as small as ants - she was fine because her senior was right beside her, laughing at her scare but giving words of encouragement. That was the first thrill she felt doing parkour for the first time.

The third came rushing all too quick and too sudden. Over the first week of the Scanderoon outbreak, the whole world around her crashed. Her relatives wound up dead and her mother wasn't around, probably dead too in Harran. Since the fall of Scanderoon, a lot of things terrified her. She had seen men kill men, zombies kill men and the other way around. Even she had to do the finishing blow to the monsters. Just to survive. And within two weeks, that fear turned into a routine - she couldn't falter a second or else she would lose her own life just like any other in the city.

It took every ounce of mental strength to sleep the terrors away but she had learned one thing this entire time: she couldn't survive on her own and she couldn't trust anyone with her life. She had been between places for a while but never stayed long enough until one fateful day, Mahir and his men came across her fleeing from prison hooligans. The encounter didn't come without a loss - she had gotten bitten during the run.

That should have been the end of her short life. Once bitten, a person was on their way to being turned, being killed before they would turn. But Mahir and the others brought her to the Junction. She was given Antizen. She was safe at least. But that safety wasn't for free - everyone in the Junction had to pull their weight around for the group and Mahir gave that condescending talk to her: she was deadweight if she wasn't going to help the Junction. Well, it wasn't mocking - the leader explained to her in a calm fashion. But she still hated that whole "you are a kid and you don't know what you're dealing with" attitude.

So she showed them, all the adults. By rallying up the quickest on their feet and making the Alpha and Beta teams for the Junction. Any time they needed supplies, she and the other runners jumped in for the hardest task.

This time, the assignment to get to an airdrop down a few streets, a should-be-easy job, took a turn for the worst. The container was a lost cause, GRE soldiers nearly tried to gun them down and now, she and Jack were against a zombie she had never seen before.

Was it a Hunter? Runners were never allowed to go out during the night but she had heard the stories. Scary stories of Specials more dangerous than even the Volatiles. But Siv just didn't expect to meet one in broad daylight, hawking at them like a tiger deciding which one would make a good meal.

Why was there one in the day?

"Siv," she heard Jack whisper softly. "I want you to stay...absolutely still. Ok?"

Shakingly, the teenager nodded with her eyes peering as much as possible without turning her head. The red-hooded adult slowly ambled step by step, towards Siv and then in front of her. Jack was dead on using her own body as her shield - something Siv wished she didn't but she was far too afraid to protest. Her mind was blank to figure out a way they could both escape without this Hunter tailing after them.

In Jack's hand was a piece of wood she had cautiously picked up from the floor. As she stepped away from Siv, she waved the weapon in a slow, drifting manner - the enticing movement when a dog was being given a bone.

"Hey, there, big...ugly fella," she mumbled to the infected. Like it would have any level of intelligence to understand her. But sounds of all sorts and motions were enough to draw its attention. "You're hungry, aren't ya? You want something with more meat, don't you? How about me instead."

The distraction worked. The Hunter clicked his tongue aggressively at the ex-kickboxer with haunting golden eyes. A claw forth, then the next one towards her. All on her and not on Siv.

"Back away. Slowly," Jack ordered. "And get to the Junction."

"What?!" Siv muttered, nearly breaking into a shout. The grenade was one thing but a Hunter?! "I can't leave you!"

"This isn't up for debate," she insisted calmly.

"B-But…" Siv had so many things to say. Jack was insane. Jack was risking her life over a stupid kid like her and she wasn't against those normal rotting monsters or gun-crazed men. Maybe, maybe, she could find a, a UV light, firecrackers, something-!

"It's ok."

At that moment, Siv's terror mellowed down. Just a faction. The sentence Jack spoke out was an ocean of confidence. She had complete focus on the one dangerous thing in the room - not even fazed there was a threat people couldn't beat. This calm certainty was exactly the same one Jack had against the GRE thugs. She made her plans on the go, calculating and methodical.

"I'll be alright."

She didn't say she'd be right behind Siv. Or that she would follow her once she would knock the bastard's lights out. But Siv could tell this wasn't the first time she took care of problems - of protecting another person.

This lady had better come out alive or Siv would never forgive her. Slowly, she took a step and another back.

"Snarrk!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jack gave a quick shake of the 2x4 plank just as the Hunter switched back targets. That sudden jolt of the yellow eyes nearly made Siv yelp with fright but she tried to creep away as quiet as a mouse. Less movement and noise out of her as possible while Jack kept all the attention on herself. "Don't go changing your mind. We haven't even started yet."

Siv gave a quick glimpse to see how far she was to an open window. She had to get back to the Junction quickly, get A-Team and-

 _Clink!_

Siv froze at the sound of something beneath her feet. Broken glass.

" ** _Ragrh!_ **"

The Hunter immediately snapped its glare onto Siv.

Oh no.

She couldn't move. Couldn't scream. She was all too petrified to do anything. She couldn't even meekly plead for help.

The zombie launched at her.

"SIV!"

It was all a blur to Siv but suddenly, just as the Hunter pounced with teeth and claws drawn out, Jack leapt forth and lassoed her arms around the beast's neck. With Jack's sudden momentum added, both went flying off to the left and through the weak part of the floor.

 _CRASH!_

"Jack!"

Human and monster hit the ground floor hard, right in the middle of the aisle before the dropped cross. The wind had completely knocked out of Jack but her mind was screaming her to get up. Quickly! She couldn't afford to stay down.

"Get up!"

Oh, wait. Was that Siv doing the shouting?

"I'm up! I'm up!" Finally, Jack's body did as it was told. But the Hunter was also climbing back up. With a loud holler that deafened her ears, it made its stance against her.

Oh, how she wished she had a UV light right about now!

"Jack!"

"Get out of here!" Jack hollered, eyes on the deadly prize.

"But-"

"NOW!" The ex-kickboxer battered up her weapon for a readied pitching.

"I-I'll get help!" The stamping of Siv's footsteps gradually faded off into the distance.

"That's ok. I'll be done with this freak before then," Jack chided maddeningly.

"Rraaagh!" With a starting stalk, the Hunter jumped at her but Jack was quick on her feet, dodging aside. She took one good swing down.

 _Thrack!_

Splinters flew as the wood piece broke in two. That whack did absolutely nothing to the damn freakoid - like its back was made of steel.

"Ah, shit."

She turned. And saw a claw grabbing her by the collar.

"Whoa! Ommph!" Jack felt the floor fast and hard. A good five feet of a spin and she was already disoriented. She took too many seconds to stand up but she definitely knew one thing. Judo. That was a fucking throwdown technique. By a mindless man-eating freak.

"O-Ok. So you're not an average zombie."

Another roar and the Hunter lunged. Jack braced for the impact with both arms up as her shield. But instead of how she expected it to go, thin tendrils suddenly grew around her. For a split second, she was stunned at this new whatever-this-biology-thing was - couldn't register how and where they came from. Hurriedly, she stuck out her foot up and pushed the beast back. A minor setback with standing on just one foot. The monster took the advantage, pinning her down while it looked for her neck.

"I'm not into this kind of shit-GAARH!" Teeth sunk deep into her left forearm. OMIGOD! THIS THING WAS EATING HER _ALIVE_!

But this was nothing new to her. And thankfully, her right arm was free.

One punch! Two punch! The Hunter's jaws were latched onto her arm tight! "Get...off...ME!" Three punch! And he stumbled off - not without bits of flesh stripped off.

Jack staggered away, examining the bite wound on her forearm. "Fuck!" The pain was blinding but she couldn't flounder. She snapped her eyes on the Hunter as she wrapped up the wound in mid-fight. If this thing managed to get her neck the next pounce, she was down for.

This was in fact, no regular infected Joe. Not even a _regular_ Special! The tricks it had...and oh boy, Bones wanted this one as a live specimen!

More importantly, she had noticed this out of a feral creature. Instead of a frantic, mindless attack like any other infected, this one zombie was calculating. It paced to its own rhythm, read her moves just as she did to its. It didn't waste its energy on pointless attempts like Biters and Virals did. It _knew_ how to fight.

This Hunter was clever, Jack would give it that. The ideal candidate the Ravs needed. She should tag the fella once she beat its lights out!

Then there came a cough. A choking sound erupted from the Hunter's throat. Before Jack's eyes, the beast gripped its chest, having a hard time to breathe. Frantically, it spat out her bits of flesh, and more, like it was something nasty.

Her secret weapon had started to take effect.

 _"_ Good. Drop dead, you bloody mongrel- _"_

"SRRAAAARHHH!"

Another holler out of the thing. The Hunter fought against the pain in one powerful go. Something else drove the infected to keep on fighting, stalking, and its golden eyes locked back on her again. Now twice as ferocious as ever!

"Shit! What?!"

"Raaaargh!"

There was no warning for her, despite her desperate yells of "No! No! No!". The infected vaulted with the tendrils out again. Hands together like a prayer, Jack shielded herself up with no choice but to be tackled down. Her only main concern was protecting her vitals. She put all her strength in pushing back the snapping chompers. But even as a professional kickboxer, the Hunter was easily overpowering her with sheer inhuman strength and its creepy ropes tightening on her. It wasn't giving her any room to fight back.

"Fine!" She then did the unthinkable. It was out of habit, after all.

She grabbed a tendril and bit it.

Yup.

That was right.

She sank her teeth right on the weird, slimy tentacle. Hard. Something vile and iron seeped onto her tastebuds but she held on like a pitbull. If anything, the fucker deserved it for biting her! The most insane thing she had always done in the ring, to a monster and it actually worked. A grunt of alarm escaped out of the beast, followed by a wail of agony. It tried to shake her off, the sprigs loosening around her. It had enough of this stunt and with one swoop, it tossed her away.

 _CRA-KAK!_

Her back hit the cross with incredible impact and half her body dropped to the altar. Arms dangled over the edge, knocking a bible and a silver plate for the bread to the floor.

With a quiver back, the Hunter growled in pain as the wounded tendril slipped back into its open-slitted claw. The woman in red nearly bit it right off. Moreover was the burning sensitivity through the arm - as if the bone had been replaced with a hot iron bar. Angrily, primitively, it glimpsed back at its target, waiting for her to rise up. Making sure she would stay put for good.

Seconds ticked by and there was a moment of triumph. Good. Good! she wasn't getting back up. That had to do the bitch in-

"Heh..."

It was a slow chuckle. One arm languidly slipped back and pushed the supposedly-dead human's body up. And under the red hood, the Hunter spotted a wide, toothy grin.

"Ahahaha..." Jack's vision was swimming, gradually clearing up. An old feeling was rising up inside as she climbed onto her feet. Jack spat out the disgusting taste from her mouth with a "Ptooey!"

Then out came the explosion.

"AHAHAHA!"

It had been a very long time since she felt this. The chains were coming loose, regardless if she tried to gain control. There was no need to keep the mania in because of _'proper manners'_. This Hunter didn't want to step down, huh?! Well, now it was going to witness the spirit in her lunge out of her. The stray hound inside was _hungry_. Let her wolf this feeling all up! Jack had to live up to her legendary name one more time, throwing caution to the wind.

She mounted over the table with maddening hazel eyes behind her shades. She wore the widest grin like the Big Bad Wolf, flexing her fingers in and out. A crazed woman was on the loose, out of her mind.

She didn't care. This outbreak had given to her one thing - it gave her the freedom she had been secretly yearning for since her retirement.

All rules were out the window.

"Alright, fine! You want to fight, mate?!" her voice raised loudly, her fists up and railing to go. "You'll get **_Mad Jack!_ **"

The berserk fighting spirit was ready to sink its teeth in.

There was no fear from the woman, not even a shred of panic like normal humans would have. The sudden transformation actually made the beast flinch. Of course, a prey backed into a corner would turn around with fangs ready. But that little hesitation only fueled its rage. It recoiled back with another boast of a roar. It knew. It wanted just as much as she did.

Good. That was what Jack liked!

 _"_ ** _Don't hold back!_ **"

The Hunter loomed left and then right. Trying to trick her at the last second, but Jack spotted it a mile away. It lashed out at her. She ducked to the right. Another slash of the claw but she ducked under the attack. An opening to its ribs! She hooked hard, sending the thing into a short floundering. She fired again! And again! Each building up with more ferocity until the fifth one forced the Hunter to steady itself on the side of a bench.

The taste of life and death was strong, intoxicating! It gave her thrills! She was back in the ring - 3rd stage Mad Jack's rabid style! Only the worst kind of scum gets it, with silver culinary and the good china. Right in the ring, the Hunter was the main guest at the table, getting all of the glory with each punch!

And the Hunter felt every punch. For some powerful Special, it couldn't keep up with her frenzy - enough to make it fall on its knees. With an angry hiss, it pounced-

She spun out a kick. One good roundhouse sent it flying off right into a confession booth.

"Ahahahaha!" Jack laughed. "HAHAHAHA! Yes! It's been so long!"

The Hunter tried again. But Jack was in her game-mode. Three fast jabs, then another swing and a kick, the infected was thrown back to the other end of her imaginative boxing ring.

That meticulous patience it had finally burned out. Now she was seeing more of the ferocious side spewing out but she didn't care. Even with the unpredictability, this thing would make the mistakes she was betting on. All the frustration it had was going to make Freakoid lose its strength down the line.

It launched again, talons and tendrils drawn out.

That was the moment she hoped for! She purposely dropped backwards and as it tried to fish her down, her legs immediately roped around its bulky waist. The unusual change in momentum brought the Hunter to the floorboards - another opening that Jack quickly freed out her arms and wrapped them around its neck, feeling the spiny back nudge painfully into her stomach. A guillotine choke on an infected.

She knew it wasn't going to work. Could zombies even breath?

"Right! Tracker!" Short-term attention span was a bit of a plague to Jack. But the chance for opportunity was present and she might as well take it. Jack was about to pull out a tag device when suddenly, her momentum was thrown off. "Whoa!"

Unexpectedly, the Hunter zoomed back up and tried to shake her off. Jack had no choice but to hold on. She was in it for the ride with a bull!

"C'mon! C'mon!" Fuck, this zombie wasn't gonna make it easy on her! "Stop moving!"

Again, she bit down on its neck.

"GARRRGH!" Another opening for her and she quickly latched the tracker onto the back hook of its torn jacket. There! It was on-

A tendril abruptly snaked around her arm.

"Whoa!"

 _Skrrrrik!_

She found herself sliding across the floor and her back made contact with a few old, damp benches. It was a damn good toss. Jack quickly wobbled back up, shaking her head and her hands to brush off the pain. No shred of dread could penetrate into her fury.

"That was nothing!" she yelled maniacally. Back into the ring with a hard right jab. And another. And another.

 _POW!_

The Hunter's head yo-yoed from the impact of her third punch, knocking the ragged cloth off. As it reeled back up, it showed its gorgeously ugly face at her with a flash of its canines.

Its mutation was in the early stages but it was still grotesque as ever. Darkened skin split along its shoulder, back and head, like a second monster was trying to burst out of its host. Small nodes of bone stuck out like a measly crown of a little prince but it boasted out its power like an alpha male with its menacing glare and deadly snarls. It verbally declared to her and everyone else that it was the king - the king wouldn't be trifle with. There were the notable features of the previous owner, a man in the midst of his Mr. Hyde transformation. But that human was gone, nowhere. Nobody at this stage of infection could come back.

"So this is what a Hunter looks like," she sang, dancing on her toes. "You're one ugly bugger, alright!"

"Raaaargh!" The monster wailed back at her insult. Enough to make men fall down on their knees.

Jack wasn't afraid. In fact, the Wild Dog was long gone to react. She was a ravenous stray playing with its food. Left! Left! And a right! Repeat and rinse before ending it with another roundhouse kick. Again and again, each strike accelerating that the infected couldn't keep up except hold its arms up like a riot shield and take them.

One final punch from her sent it down. And it made the Hunter mad. It was doing the same moves again: another pounce and tendrils swarming around her. It had worked before on other prey, why wasn't it working on this one!

Again, Jack shielded her neck with her arms. Again, she was prepared, taking the assault.

"Enough!" Her free hand quickly worked its way on what she felt was the belt. With all her power, she lifted the bloody infected off its feet and bridging it over her shoulder. "Of eating my flesh!"

One Jackie suplex coming right out!

 _THUD!_

She slammed its body right into the floor, sidestepping back as she watched the damn bugger wincing from the pain in its neck. It was a few seconds before it struggled to stand up.

It was slowing down, gagging out something from its mouth. Even a second time, it hadn't learned its lesson to try and eat her.

"What? I'm not bloody _tasty_ enough for you?!" she mocked and kept the fire going. She was still ready for its next move. But the suplex was the final straw. Recoiling back weakly, the terrifying special zombie hunched away from her like a scared little dog with its tail between its legs. For trying to bark and bite back at a dangerous, big, wild dog.

 _OH! Now you're fucking afraid!_

"C'mon, Freakoid! I'm not done with you yet!" she taunted. "Mad Jack's got all the time in the world!"

Give it to her! She's never faced an opponent quite like this! **_Just give it! GIVE IT-!_**

" _...J…_ "

The scratch came at the back of her head. A second time. Barely audible that she couldn't make out the word. The weirdest part was...it came from nowhere. Jack flinched, desperately looking for the source.

Where? Where did it come from? The only thing that was making any noise was…

" _...Jade…_ "

The Freakoid said that. With a small glint of something in those inhuman eyes.

Jack read that glint from those golden eyes. The fighting spirit was doused down by confusion, shock, awe - out like a light. She shouldn't be reading something like that from the undead but the emotion was there.

It was sadness.

She stumbled back. The Wild Dog was now aghast, stunned out of her mind and unsure what to make of everything. What? Wait, hold on. Come back three - no, _five,_ ** _ten_ **steps back! There were so many things she wanted answers, or if it was all just her imagination from the intensity of the near-death fight.

But the name, hearing _that_ _name_ , was the biggest shock in that short flash.

"What the hell did you just say?"

Why? Why did that thing say _Champ's_ name-

"Gaargh!"

Suddenly, the Hunter cowered down on its knees, the sudden dimness illuminating its glowing veins. It contorted its body like it was in pain. Like it was dealing with a massive headache. An odd gesture to see for Jack.

Then she noticed the two bright rectangular rays, moving on their own, streaming towards her. That was when she realized it too late: the shifting of light through the windows behind her twisted her insides. On an inkling, she warily wheeled back.

The sun was setting.

"Oh, fucking hell," she cursed tiredly.

The snarls in front of her were getting louder, forcing her to turn back to her opponent. By now, all of Jack's fire was completely in ashes and she wasn't in the mood to swing back. Because she recalled one thing Mahir told her about Hunters.

 _"They only come out during the night. Deadlier than the Volatiles."_

So Freakoid here was gonna be far worse than what she had faced?!

"R-Ruun!"

Now came out a distorted voice - a man's voice blending together with a monster's. There was a visible internal struggle she was seeing. No, everything about this infected was all too new and honestly, batshit horrifying to her that she stepped back.

What in the world was she dealing with?

She had to get away.

"Run!" It was a desperate cry. Like some small piece of humanity screaming with everything it had. It wanted her to run from it.

Then it wanted her dead.

"RUAAGH!"

That small piece was gone out like a light. Just as the sun went out.

"AaaaaAAAHHHHHHH!" Jack sprinted right out of the church's doors.

The Hunter was on her tail.

* * *

The night was at its scariest. It was alive, stirring and full of rapacious zombies seeking prey. This was the time no one should be out - any survivor knew it was suicidal. The sun was gone for twelve hours and during those hours, every human had to bunker down, wait out the night and block out the noises, the screams and the terrors. Anyone dumb or unfortunate enough to still be outside should make their final amends and prepare themselves on a silver palate.

Jack was one such unfortunate survivor... But not like she had a choice!

Moreover, she didn't recognize this part of town. She didn't keep track of the lower surroundings when she and Siv were crossing the tops. For all she knew, she could be running blindly and further away from the Junction. So for now, it was a run to any place for safety. The large streets were avoided - she needed a less crowded, narrow lane to slip away from the Hunter. Quick thinking was helping her bit by bit: pulling over any obstacle she could find to block the path behind her.

But how much time could she keep buying for herself? She was almost tempted to look back, hoping that maybe the zombie changed his mind and stopped chasing.

She glanced over her shoulder.

The Hunter wasn't behind her anymore.

Did she lose it? That was way too easy-

"GAARGH!"

The new screams told her she had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Three new friends bounded out from the sides to join the party. Friends she never asked for. Broad-shouldered freaks with exposed bone and muscle and the most noticeable mandible jaw ready to sink their teeth on her.

"Volatiles! Frigging _Volatiles!"_

There was no way she could survive the night-

 _Beep!_

" _Jack! Jack! Do you read?!_ "

Oh, **_swell time_ **to be getting a call! But she couldn't have been happier to hear Siv's voice via her earpiece - if she wasn't being chased.

"Hey! Not now! Running for my life!" she responded panickedly.

" _Jack,_ " then came Mahir's voice on the other end. " _Do you see an overpass?_ "

An overpass? She could barely make anything in the dead of night. The roads had barely any street lamps on and a couple of barrels with fire about.

She then spotted the highway to her west. "Yes! YES! I see it!"

" _There's a safehouse there! Hurry!_ "

Oh, that was the magic word she was so glad to hear. Except for the three vicious infected behind her and the active swarm packed in the street. They all saw her, fraying their arms at her with aggravated groans. Jack forced her way up on a car, feeling the fingers behind her try and rack at her clothes. She madly jumped on a couple of heads to cross over the sea of Biters and up over a fence. For a glimpse of a second, she spotted a lone, small construction site barred with wire and spikes all over the boundary.

Safehouse! OH, thank the Universe!

But her eyes bugged wide at one small problem: it was dark inside and out in its safe perimeter. The lights weren't on. Not even the UVs.

"Why's the lights off?!"

" _What?!_ " Mahir hollered with the same tone of shock as hers. " _Shit! The generator must be off._ "

"You have your safehouse tied to a _fucking generator?!_ " Jack screamed.

" _Look for the panel, dammit!_ "

She gave out one outburst of annoyance: nothing was ever easy! Quickly, Jack vaulted over the wall and into the area, the deadly traps buying her some time with the nearby walkers. But the wires and spikes weren't going to stop the Volatiles once they'd catch up. To top it off, there were a few stragglers inside the unprotected safehouse.

Oh boy, _oh boy!_

Jack dodged around the small fry before ducking through the door. Slapped it shut behind her and with reinforcement, she pulled a metal locker down to block it. Another 10 seconds bought while she quickly searched for the power distribution panel.

Please let it be simple - don't make it like she has to go find the fuel generator and it's one of those pulling type! Or worse, it was out of gas!

 _Thud! THUD! THUD!_

"GAARGH!" "Kssssk!"

And now the Volatiles were at her door. _Wonderful!_

She quickened her pace, eventually patting her way to the power box in the dark. Fingers gripped the edges of the panel and with leftover tenacity and added jitters, she pulled.

 _Krrrr-KACK!_

The lid stripped off.

 _BAM!_

Seconds counted down - she didn't have to look back to know the door was cracking down. One more bash by that Volatile and they would be in. But she stayed the course and flipped the switches. 1, 2, and 3!

The safehouse came alive. The interior's lights flickered on and the familiar blue rays shone the front.

"Gaaaugh!"

"Gaargh-hisssss!" Outside the door, she listened to two Volatiles shriek in pain with the awful smell skin flambéing up under the UV light. It turned her stomach inside-out, garh.

There were two sounds: something dropping down like a fly smacked to a zapper and something running away. The third wasn't lucky enough, flapping painfully inside the perimeter along with the other unwanted guests. The rest probably escaped.

It became quiet. Jack waited, listened. And finally, she knew she was safe.

"Oh, bloody hell," she uttered with relief, slipping down to the floor from exhaustion. She was almost zombie food. "That was way too close for comfort..." She may be stubborn enough to fight against one special infected but she was no fool to take out a horde.

" _Jack?_ "

"Y-Yeah," she replied over the comms with a pant. "Yeah. I'm good. Phsew... Talk about a run for my money. Ahaha."

" _You are one damn lucky woman, you know that?_ " Mahir complimented.

"Luck has nothing to do with that. It's all about the skills. Raw talent," she tried to breathe.

" _Heh. Well, you did say you were a specialist._ "

" _Give me that, Mahir! Jack?!_ " the young runner took over the call, her voice nearly peaking up the volume. " _I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have left you behind!_ "

"Siv."

" _You could have been killed! We shouldn't even have gone for that drop! Y-You were right! We should have turned back before the radio tower! There wasn't even anything in it-!_ "

"Siv!" That finally stopped the teenager's rambles. "I'm fine. Really. Just a little grazed but I'm fine."

Total understatement of the year. If she were to see her right now, the very obvious bite marks and bruises would tell her "You're fucking lying, Jack!"

" _Geezus… We came out with nothing and you nearly turned up dead._ "

"Weeell, I wouldn't say it was for nothing," Jack chided. Got herself one hell of a fight. "Don't put yourself in a pickle over this…"

The teenager said nothing in response, silently telling Jack she was beating herself over what happened. The brunette was about to tell her she didn't hold it against her but she knew that wasn't going to be enough to soften the girl's nibbling guilt.

So she said instead, "You all should get some sleep. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

" _Yeah. Tomorrow. You better come back,_ " Siv demanded, a swing back to the usual hot-blooded attitude. Then she added with a generous tone, " _Thanks, Jack. Really._ "

"Heh. We girls gotta stick together." She heard a chuckle over the line - easily visualizing as 'Really? Already, Jack was making her a friend after one day?'. But Siv didn't reject the idea vocally. "And Siv?"

" _Yeah?_ "

"We'll find more supplies tomorrow. This granny still has some years left to keep up with you."

" _Heh-heh,_ " she laughed, the weight on her shoulders feeling a little lighter. " _We'll see about that... Goodnight, Jack._ "

 _Beep!_

"...Yeah. Goodnight. And good luck," she said to nobody. Or maybe to the noisy zombies outside. Maybe to herself.

She had enough excitement for one day. Too much on her plate and she wanted to think on it tomorrow morning instead. Her body needed sleep. Taking off her shades, she laid back on the prepared sleeping bag in the corner. However, she was a bit all too wide-awake to drift off to slumberland. She thought back on her 'luck'.

Luck was something she never relied on - her skills were what kept her alive. But sometimes, luck did have some play on her, before and during this epidemic. Like an annoying marionette pulling at her strings just when the danger had its hand right on her. She had nearly gotten close to running out twice. And Jack knew it was gonna run out dry soon.

How long would that be - the next days, weeks, months? Lady Luck would eventually stop buckling in for her. And when that would happen, there wouldn't be any more stopping.

 _Just forget about it, Jack._

She closed her eyes, blocking out all the groans and moans outside. They would shut up soon.

Twenty minutes later, it became a peaceful night.

* * *

 _Something's wrong!_

 _It hurts!_

 _Everything hurts!_

 _What did that woman do?! What did she do to us?!_

Something inside the Hunter was burning up. It started off at the arm, then from the second bite. And now the Hunter could feel the fieriness attacking its body. Changing it. Eating into its brain like a sickness. A poison!

It couldn't stand it - the colors and the shapes swimming around it. The vertigo hit it just as hard as the woman's punches but the monster couldn't recover quick enough like before. The sudden ailment came in the middle of the chase that soon, it lost sight of the fleeing woman.

This feeling was familiar to the beast. This has happened before. She gave something that twisted his insides! Just like before! It was happening all over again!

 _NO!_

The Hunter hated this feeling. It was like something was trying to dull its rage down - trapping the animal into a cage.

 _Get out!_

It racked its talons on its throat, its stomach. Trying to tear it out. When that didn't work, the freak of nature tried to gag out the horrible taste again. It was still inside, wasn't it? Just spit it out!

But nothing came out.

 _Stop this!_

The voice was scared. It snapped its jaws, lashed its claws at nothing for a way out. No matter how it tried to fight it, the burning sensation still dawdled, welcoming fear in. There was no escape for them.

Them?

Wait. Why the word, _them_?

 _Kill her! We need to kill her!_

What?

Why?

He didn't understand.

 _She did something! She's hurting us!_

It did hurt. Everything in him was like hot needles tossed through the muscles. But for some odd reason, it didn't bother him. No. It was more like he had been drowning this entire time that pain was only numbing to him.

 _"Alright, fine! You want to fight, mate?! You'll get_ ** _Mad Jack!_ **_"_

Fight?

Yeah. He wanted to fight.

He wanted control again.

 _Killherkillherkillherkillherkillher!_

 ** _Kill her!_**

...No, that wasn't her. This brunette was human, a person. Hell, she even went all ballistic - an animal all-out with teeth on an infected. Thirsty for the fight and thrilled to stay alive. She had a desire that he had been wanting for a long time.

To live again.

He wanted that. But the reason why he waited this long...was because he was afraid to come back.

He couldn't remember why.

 _She'll kill us!_

N-No. No. He wasn't back in the Countryside. That Volatile freak was dead.

 _It's her! The witch is back!_

 _"Don't hold back!" she wailed, with such powerful valor, it shook him to the core._

Hold back?

Had he been holding back all this time?

 _Don't listen! Kill her before she kills us!_

Shut up.

Be quiet and let him think **_for once!_**

It was nothing but noise grinding against bone - memories flashing violently again. Some old he had forgotten, some new he had never seen before. Whatever was happening to the infected was not just tearing it from the inside but also making a mess of its brain, his brain. There was no order. There had never been any order from the start and the dominant voice was getting more aggravated at its loss in the fight, at the itching thought that the woman in red had lived, at everything!

She was going to get it, the voice wailed at him, for hurting them. _Again!_ They would make her regret ever facing them.

 _Shut up!_

What 'them'? He wasn't _them_. He was _himself! He_ was the one who tore off her head!

There was **_never_** a 'them'!

 _So what?!_ The voice hollered ferally at him. They have been together far longer than he had wanted. The Hunter had come out thanks to this _gift_. And since then, the beast had been keeping themselves alive - showing everyone who was the top. The king of the night! He was free thanks to _their strength!_

No more pain, no more guilt, no more fighting for a pointless cause, no more deceiving others and on himself! **_No more suffering!_ **All his complications were gone thanks to him letting the other side take control, to accept this raw power, this freedom! Their life became much better.

Wha...what life?

What freedom? He didn't feel free. He was still trapped! _This is a prison._

He didn't want this. He had to get out. The longer he stayed, the more he'd be forgetting everything he went through.

This was wrong.

 _It wasn't wrong! This is right!_ _So stop restraining and let's go kill her! She's more brainsick than before! She's the last obstacle left!_

Stop it. She wasn't his concern. Stop this headache!

The flashes were getting more vibrant in his head, more solid. Like a film going faster and faster. All the faces, all the people he had been fighting for.

They were still waiting for him.

 _No! Stop! It's not worth it!_ Now the voice was pleading. Pathetically. It was losing its grip on his conscious. _The damage's done! There's nothing to go back to!_

Nothing? No. There was _something._

The Tower... He had to go back.

 _"C'mon, Freakoid! I'm not done with you yet!" she taunted. "Mad Jack's got all the time in the world!"_

 _Oh, you shut up_ , he grimaced. _Who are you calling Freakoid?_ And what was with that stupid name? Sounded like a bad wrestler's name.

 _Stop!_ The voice was frantic, wailing, gripping at his feet to stop him from leaving. From taking away its control. _Don't listen to her! There is no point in returning!_

He didn't care. He had to give it a try.

Everyone at the Tower had to be worried about him-

 ** _No one is!_** All those unturned weaklings? They wouldn't accept him back. Had he forgotten? One look at him and they'd gun him down! The same went for those who tried! Sentimentality was useless in these hunting grounds.

Stop talking! He was still the same man-

 _Stop denying it, weakling! It had been us together! You need me! You'll never survive!_ Why else did he let the other side of himself take over?

Because he was too chicken to face them, that was why!

Everyone was out to get them! Same went for that bitch! She was back for him again-

 _Shut up. Enough!_ he hollered, losing his patience.

 _No! It's not enough! We won't rest until she is dead! Kill her! KILL HER NOW!_

 ** _KILL THE MOTHER!_**

And that did it. Something loud snapped inside his skull. The chains were finally broken.

 _"Just_ ** _SHUT UP!_ **"

One right claw grabbed on the top of its head and as if someone was right there, in the presence of its weakness, the human shoved the Hunter's head down with one swift blow.

 _Thud!_

Then it stopped.

Everything.

The voice. The visions. The burning feeling.

It all stopped.

He could think for himself. That voice that came from way back in his head? It was gone just as easily as it had taken over the surface of his psyche the first time round.

Then came the pain.

"Gah." He reeled down, hands clutching his head while he endured the agony. He did just smash his head hard on the rock beneath his feet and that was enough to put the monster down. He asked for it, beating the internal fight. But god...it hurt. So much.

No, no. It wasn't over yet. He didn't know why - it was as if he was still in danger. Not as instinct but more like it was routine. That he couldn't afford to waver. However, for some odd reason, the danger didn't seem to come after him so he might as well take the time to register everything.

How long had he been out? He didn't even remember himself! Who he was. But eventually, the faint memories flowed in like a river building up, eroding his blackout. He was someone, right? Yeah. Not an _it_ , a person. He had a name.

Once the grogginess and the headache subsided, he heavily caught his breath. His brain was completely frazzled from the whole experience but he understood one thing.

He had finally resurfaced.

Kyle Crane was partially back in the head.

* * *

A/N: What do you know, a tutorial chapter? XD I really am writing this kinda like a game doc but not really.

Whoo! Another good chapter revamped. This was originally part of the old Chp 3 and Chp 4. I did have a rule where I was keeping to a word count limit of 6k+ but decided to drop it. I do hope that the combination or adding more flesh into the chapters won't be too long-winded for you readers' taste - and if its an issue, do inform me and I'll change the length. This also does mean for the first arc, the original ten chapters may become eight or less. Or not.

Tried my best to keep the conversation nice and a bit warmhearted, as well as the action be intense. I actually had a lot of fun with this one. Action scenes are my favorite, with a bit of struggle to think from A to B for each move. It also shows a different kind of fighting preference Jack has compared to gameplay Crane. Saying in a game design perspective, Jack's more of the go for it kind of gal and a bit less agile than Crane. Even the power side of her skill tree in my head is different from his: a brawler's skills. Jack also has different kinds of skils specific to distraction in the Survival side. I can picture her as kind of the beserker class in a way like Sam D was from Dead Island.

Now that being said, it's a DUMB IDEA to just rely on bare fists in a zombie apocalypse, even without fist weapons. She isn't immortal against a horde. Anyone trying to do a run with just fists towards the end is like going Deprived in Dark Souls.

Anyhow, enough game design rambling from me. I hope you'll like this chapter. And yes. Crane's back. ;P

Old Chapter Three A/N: A big happy birthday shoutout to Akira Namikaze, from FFN. :)

19/10/19 - Update refined! Combined chp 3 into chp 2. 25/10/19 - Reedited for mistakes and errors.


	4. THREE: NIGHTFALL

Chapter Summary

 **\- REVIVAL**

It feels like I've been asleep for so long… Where am !? What has happened to me? I-I can't remember. I...I just need to stay calm and think… My name… My name is Kyle Crane. And I'm back. - Kyle

* * *

 **THREE: NIGHTFALL**

* * *

It took a while for Kyle Crane to regain his bearings again. To recall...everything inside his head. And the first question that came to mind was: how long had he been out? It had felt like he had been imprisoned for months, years even - he couldn't move, speak up, or do anything. He couldn't even remember. But now, he was free. No one to snarl at him and tell him what to do. He could finally think for himself!

And think he did.

The name eventually came to him - _his_ own name. Slowly, the memories trickled in bit by bit. He used to be someone. Someone brave. Someone who made poor life choices. Someone terrible.

Because...he was surviving. He was a survivor. He was part of a group that held up somewhere… The Tower.

But that wasn't the last place he remembered. Think, Kyle.

He squished his dry eyes, an attempt to get his brain juices moving, as he breathed in. With an exhale, more memories came rushing.

The Countryside. He went to the Countryside. To investigate a rumor. A possible way out. Talks about some cult and sentient zombies-

A flash happened. Something came right towards him. In red. The mask was off, showing the horrible face and split mandibles.

" _You cannot survive this._ "

He jumped. That voice! No!

"She's dead!" he cried dryly. "She's dead…"

Focus, Kyle, focus!

He looked back to his surroundings… But this place didn't look like the Countryside. Or the insides of some lab facility.

"Where am I?"

His voice sounded raspy. Weird-sounding. He almost couldn't recognize his own voice. Well, he felt like he hadn't had a drink in a while. So he swallowed hard, hoping to clear it.

Crane examined everything around him. The first thing he noticed was the colors being a little off - but he dismissed it for the darkness. No silos, no open fields, or windmills. He was nowhere near any farm. Not a single familiar landmark he could find amidst the urban structures.

This was a city, with mountains on one side and a wide coastline on the other.

Wait. A city. Yeah. He...he was in Harran but... "This...this isn't Harran."

He cleared his voice again. What was wrong with it?

Where on Earth did he wander off? What had he been doing this entire time? There shouldn't be any dillydallying, Kyle! _You still got the virus to worry about_ -

He stopped.

That was the one important thing he had forgotten. The memory hit him far worse than his headache.

He remembered he was infected.

The bite from a random common when he parachuted down in the middle of the Slums' streets.

When was the last time he took his Antizin?

The dread was swelling up inside of him, lungs and heart quickening their pace. No, calm down. He was still here. It would be the end of him if he wasn't.

Calm down, he told himself, prompting a hand to grasp his neck and calm the anxious breathing. That was when he felt something strange about his skin. Uncomfortably, inhumanly rigid.

He glanced down at his hand-

"Grah-ah-AHHH!"

Crane nearly screamed - his shriek turned into the panicked murmur of a monster. Because he now noticed the talons. And he tried to get away from them.

They followed. Those were _his_ hands.

Shakingly, he lifted them up close. This wasn't a joke.

"What-?"

Another thing stopped him, making him grip his throat out of sheer terror. It finally kicked in with a shiver down his spine. His voice wasn't raspy - what came out of his charred lips didn't sound _anything_ like it! It was like somebody else was talking to him.

He tried again. Forcefully clearing his throat a third time.

"H-How-"

No. Stop. This wasn't him. That wasn't him!

"This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare!"

Stop talking! _That wasn't his_ ** _voice!_**

" _Why is this-_ "

He jumped again. Not another problem. What was that just now?! It sounded like his normal voice, not the monstrous noise coming from his mouth. But...it came out from somewhere else! It was as if Kyle should be thinking out loud but he could hear his own thoughts like soundwaves. The manner 'thought-spoken' was also familiar to him - someone else did this means of communication he had heard...or telepathically listened?

"T-This isn't real!" His head felt heavy. He tried to steady himself but even the awkward sensation of claws - his claws - touching the odd bumps on his head freaked him out. Like a Special had just brushed him by a hair but it was him all along.

Everything in him was out of control.

"C-Calm down, Kyle."

Ok, the voice really terrified him. And it was making it worse. His vision was blurring up again, delirium creeping over and hyperventilation strangling him. He tried his best to stop himself from exploding. Any sane person would never be the same after discovering they've turned into a monster.

Maybe he was insane. That was the best answer he could pick on but he should be losing it again if that were true. _Someone take me away from this nightmare._ And yet it felt like something was anchoring him down. It wasn't his willpower, that was for sure - what was left of it.

So...with nothing else, he had to gain back control on his own.

" _Calm down._ "

This second time, he shut his eyes and slowed his breathing. It wasn't partly working - he could hear and sense everything on an enormous level. But eventually, the anxiety dimmed out inside of him. But not completely. Regardless, 'thought-speaking' was a better option than hearing that horrible, hoarse voice.

" _Ok. So you're a zombie. Ah-heh-heh,_ " he 'laughed' nervously. " _I-It's alright. It's going to be all right._ "

No, it wasn't. That was a mad man talking there.

"GAARGH!"

Then came a well-known roar.

The alarms in his head rang loudly - he had been through this before. It was like getting back on the saddle for him, or at least the human side of Crane. He wasn't in Harran but it certainly wasn't safe either. Below his perch, he saw the same sight he had always seen back in the Slums: the wandering zombies in the dead of night.

But one thing caught his attention. Because it was bright and orange. The tibia and the fibula bending in and out, moving the strange entity across the street. It coaxed him, or some small part inside of him, to go chase after it. Catch the firefly. But what stopped him was what he was seeing. A freaking _skeleton_ running on its feet bones.

Or was this how zombies could see? Didn't matter. His eyes trailed after the highlighted skeleton, noticing three big things swooshing in the shadows. A few glances from nearby light sources showed to him that those were in fact, beasts like him. Volatiles. Hunting. Pursuing their prey.

That slowly clicked for Crane. It wasn't him they were after. They were after a human. And that meant that skeleton was...a human.

A human was being chased, not him. Something familiar heated up in his chest - the sight of someone in peril would always urge him to come to their rescue - he had done this many times.

A human needed help.

His legs wouldn't move, the remaining anxiety keeping him rooted. A human would see him and flee.

But that was **_a human in danger!_**

 _Kyle! Move it!_

He bolted on bare feet. Again, it was like getting back onto the saddle. The same man who jumped into the worst-case scenarios that no one would take, with lives on the line. It had always been that case for him and he had never said no. Because they were innocent, they needed saving. Even as a freak, it still was his very nature to save lives.

He couldn't walk away when a person was in danger. He wasn't shameless to do such a thing, all because he was too cowardly to show his ugly self to anyone. He could figure himself out after the lady was safe!

The pursuit showed him the differences between the 'new' Crane and the old self. He was a lot faster - not comic superhero speed but neither human. He could vault over obstacles further than most runners he knew. In fact, he caught up to the vicious mob, heading towards one destination: a spike-fenced, fortified safehouse at a construction site.

With the lights off. Both normal and UV.

Then he saw the bright skeleton, leaping over the fences. A woman, at least from the back - what he saw within view was a layer over the orange-lit skeleton, like wearing x-ray glasses. Crane quickly noticed one significant thing on her: a red hooded jacket - bearing the emblem of a savage wolf.

A woman in red.

She slipped into the safehouse, shutting the door behind her. The Volatiles weren't far away, prancing right into the perimeter. There was nothing to stop them - them snarling their open mandibles at wobbly guests to back off and leave their prey for them. The biggest one out of the bunch took to slamming its claws at the door.

 _Thud!_

Crane plummeted right into the perimeter, having grabbed a pipe on the run. One Volatile turned to him. "GAARGH!" it bellowed. Back off. This is ours, they said.

Not the exact words but that was how he pictured they were saying. And know what, he said to himself, he wasn't a human anymore - a human had few choices against a Volatile: run away or use every trick in the book to at least kill one Volatile. But the three Volatiles glaring him down with red glowing eyes wasn't against a human.

So he went all out!

 _THUD!_

One Volatile tumbled down from the whack on the head. Whining from the pain.

"Kssssk!" howled the other.

 _THUD!_

The Special fell down, holding its blood-soaked head. Then the second got whacked from the side.

This...was a lot easier than Crane had expected. Each hit he gave did a great amount of damage - he could hear the bone crack. And these were the types he'd run away from. He would never come face to face with without some handy UV lights. His newfound strength was devastating these monsters, to the point his weapon was close to being broken.

Crane turned to the Volatile banging down the door. For a split second, he failed to see the first one rise up with a lunge attack.

 _Your right!_

It was a familiarly distasteful voice, scratching at the back of his skull. But the warning was enough for him to react - wheel right to see the charging Special and quickly slam the pipe down onto it like whack-a-mole. _THUD!_ It quivered back and now, his pipe was bent. Unusable.

Despite everything he gave, the two other Volatiles rose back up. There was an angrier, more bloodthirsty spark in their eyes, the kind animals would have towards an outsider that has overstayed his welcome.

Great. What else was he supposed to use? His fists?

His ears then picked up something. As if something was starting up. A 'whooing' sound. Then a buzzing sound-

Light blinded him. White. Then blue.

Then came the burning.

"Gaaaugh!" Crane howled. His skin felt like it was on fire. He was becoming weak every second he stayed in the light. What was going on?!

"Gaargh-hisssss!" The blast of light stunned the two Volatiles just as it did for him. They quickly recoiled backwards and covered their faces before fleeing over the barriers. The last one - the one Crane smacked its head open - contorted out a horrible gurgling noise from its jawless mouth. The strong, disgusting smell of burning flesh filled Crane's nostrils - the bastard was roasting up. It tried to follow after its brethren but it gave up the fight quickly and its body timbered over the barbed wires.

Right. He had seen this before. Exposure to ultraviolet light: it was a powerful weapon every survivor should have. It turned places into safe havens, it scared off the common infected, it _hurt_ the Specials, draining them down to be forced back into their holes.

And Crane was being cooked alive.

 _Get out! Get out now!_

He obeyed. A dart and dive right out of the hot safehouse. But his stamina was really spent, that he rolled weakly across the ground. Water stung his eyes as he tried to endure the pain, shrinking into a ball.

"Gaagh," he groaned. "Gack!"

Shit, Crane could still feel the radiation. He forced himself up physically and the agony out of his system mentally until he was far enough from the rays and his energy slowly regaining. And feeling his grit coming back, the night prowler pushed onwards, climbing his way up to a perch. The balcony of an abandoned apartment was an ideal safe place.

" _That was painful!_ " Crane breathed heavily. God, this was like third-degree burn! He huffed one more time with a desperate attempt at shaking the feeling off. " _So...this is how zombies felt... Shit._ "

Nope. It still was taking some time to stop being in pain.

Well...at least, the safehouse was on! That was a good sign. Crane took one peer over the balcony. With his terrifying vision piercing through the trailer's walls, he saw the lady sitting on the floor. She was panting heavily from the experience of nearly being caught and mauled. But finally, she was safe.

He saved another person.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Crane jerked his head at the thick accent. Wait a minute.

He searched about for the source. It sounded crystal clear. Like he was right next to someone.

Was he hearing things now?

"That was way too close for comfort..."

No, wait... Was that the woman? Yes, he was hearing _her voice_. Absolutely pristine vocal words from...thirty feet away! Geezus. Was this how well his superhuman hearing could go?

" _Jack?_ "

Then he heard another voice - a man's, a bit muffled with background noises as if it came from a can. Wait, was that radio talk?

"Y-Yeah. Yeah. I'm good. Phsew... Talk about a run for my money. Ahaha."

" _You are one damn lucky woman, you know that?_ "

Yup, that was radio talk. This was getting weirder by the minute. In fact, he was terrified of his extraordinary ability to perceive sound, going levels of bat-shit crazy. But he listened regardless - not like he had a choice not to. Crane could clearly see the brightly-outlined skeleton putting fingerbones to where the ear was. Comms.

"Luck has nothing to do with that. It's all about the skills. Raw talent," the woman exclaimed.

" _Heh. Well, you did say you were a specialist._ "

Crane's unpleasant peeking twisted into an attentive inspection out of interest. Seeing her talk to someone on the line gave a sense of closeness to him.

" _Give me that, Mahir!_ _Jack?!_ " A third one came into the audible picture: young, female. A kid. " _I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have left you behind!_ "

"Siv."

" _You could have been killed! We shouldn't even have gone for that drop! Y-You were right! We should have turned back before the radio tower! There wasn't even anything in it-!_ "

"Siv!" the woman uttered. "I'm fine. Really. Just a little grazed but I'm fine."

Excuse him but wasn't she running for her dear life just a couple of minutes ago? And grazed? She nearly got whacked earlier!

...Wait, Crane thought. Was she attacked? He vaguely remembered something along those lines-

Oh. Right.

It was he that attacked her. At that church... Guilt gnawed at his insides as his brain slowly reminded him of the punches she had to deliver to him in order to survive a _zombie_ assault. Fine job, Crane.

" _Geezus… We came out with nothing and you nearly turned up dead._ "

"Weeell, I wouldn't say it was for nothing. Don't put yourself in a pickle over this…" There was an odd chirp in the woman's voice. And it brought great disbelief to Crane. Did she really just shrug off the fact he nearly killed her?! A monster nearly tried to eat her and it was just..."yeah, I'm already over it."

 _You do not get over something like that, lady! I never did!_

"You all should get some sleep. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

" _Yeah. Tomorrow. You better come back,_ " the younger voice demanded. " _Thanks, Jack. Really._ "

"Heh. We girls gotta stick together."

How normal and easy it was for this person to banter back, casting away all the sheer terrors she experienced as if it was yesterday's news. It was a little laughable, a bit...weird and most of all...a bit sad to Crane. It was a normal conversation between survivors - the kind he had now and then at the Tower, to people he met along his journey. Without realizing it, he felt a heartstring tug at the painful familiarity. This cheekiness, the harmless small talk to lighten up their grim reality...

It honestly made him miss the real deal.

And listening to an adult talk to some kid through the comms had way too much resemblance to him. This reminded him of how he was with Rahim when he first started. What a blast from the past. It didn't start off like bubby-bubby. The kid was a jackass, pretending to be the boss and calling him lazy.

Then he remembered Rahim.

He gripped his chest. It hurt.

"And Siv?"

Crane looked back at the woman below him.

" _Yeah?_ "

"We'll find more supplies tomorrow. This granny still has some years left to keep up with you."

" _Heh-heh. We'll see about that... Goodnight, Jack._ "

 _Beep!_ And the call was over. Just like that.

"...Yeah. Goodnight. And good luck," she said to nobody. It was a tiring mumble to herself. He observed her take her sweet time towards one area of the little shack before lying on the floor for a snooze. Like how he decided to end the day and sleep it off after that time he had to turn the power grid back on for Spike. It was a long first day for him.

This was all too familiar to him.

Then he snapped out of the nostalgia. How long was he going to watch a woman sleep? That was a stalker's territory, totally creepy, Kyle. _You're not that kind of man._

The word, man, rang a horrible reminder to Kyle. He's gotta do it even if he didn't want to. It was time to look at himself and face the music.

At his new body. His...zombified self.

Crane expelled the revolt off his chest and looked at his hands again, deadly sharp weapons opening up. No, stop calling them hands...they were claws. The reality still didn't sink in for him: this wasn't his body even if he was staring down at himself. Could he just tear the skin off and see the color, beige underneath it?

Was this what happens when you've lost the battle to the Harran virus? What the hell was he anyway? A sentient zombie? Great. He basically became the one thing Mother said he would.

" _The Mother._ "

Anger boiled inside of him as he curled his talons in, hands shaking. Now he remembered. Absolutely _everything_ from the Countryside.

" _She did this to me._ "

She fucking turned him into this _monster!_

There was nowhere for the rage to go, his sharpened teeth grounding and the pain in his claws from the nails digging in. He wanted to hit something! He had lost _everything_ thanks to that _fucking woman!_ Without thinking, he lifted both fists up. But all he had was the floor beneath his feet. And that just made his claws hurt after a few outbursts. But he kept going - let all the anger out.

He was like a lost child, furious at the world. At God. But he didn't care. Finally, the ache in his claws settled him down. It was pointless to punch stone.

The Mother was gone. He killed her, remember, Kyle?

So he couldn't take his vengeance. Nobody could take the blame but himself for going to the Countryside.

 _Rot in hell, you bitch._

Kyle breathed in and out. In and out... And slumped back against the balcony door, allowing the despair to eat in. On one side, he shouldn't. He couldn't let depression finally win. But on the other, maybe he should so he could stop seeing this sorry sight of himself. Again, his frustration stirred up at the thought that someone up there gave the finger and put him back in this hideous excuse of his old self.

Crane heavily sighed, giving up. " _What good would it do to get angry at...?_ " He was still groggily from his weird out-of-body experience - or was it back-in-body experience? Most of his energy was spent on the internal fighting, the UV lights and outbursts. He couldn't get a break, not since Day 1 in Harran.

...Then he should distract himself from his own ordeal. That was the one thing that kept him going: work. Without work, people would suffer in the Slums. They needed someone to do the most difficult tasks at hand and he took it, because they had no one else. Work kept his mind sane and his body alive - because he couldn't falter from a loss. People depended on him.

He had already lost a lot before he went to the Countryside. People too, two of them the most important to him before he realized it too late.

Jokingly, he thought to himself. If Rahim was here, he'd be and calling him lazy again. Like the first time.

I'm not lazy, was Crane's remark behind the kid's back.

" _Guess I have been lazy for far too long..._ " He had been doing nothing but stay inside his head for God knows how long.

Alright. Think.

" _Ok... Ok. What do I do now?_ " Was it that easy to swing back like that? Denial was his only key to hold onto. "Heh," he scoffed at himself. "Don't really have a manual."

Smooth, Crane. Real smooth. He might as well smash his head again and go out completely.

He thought it over. First off, he found himself in a different city. The city was plagued with zombies - this was basically Harran all over again. And from the conversation he overheard earlier, there was a group of survivors somewhere like the Tower - maybe the same faction the woman in red was.

And survivors needed supplies. They needed Antizin.

" _Really? You're gonna do this?_ " he muttered to himself. " _One look at you and they'll shoot you down... The Tower's gotta be worried about me-_ "

Then he stopped himself.

" _No. No way am I going to do that… Brecken, Lena, everyone... They shouldn't see me like this._ "

But he couldn't go on like this. He needed help. For once, it was he who couldn't solve this problem on his own.

" _Can't go to Camden either..._ " He groaned out of frustration. Oh, c'mon. He didn't have any option but what could he do? If any of his friends saw him...it would devastate them. No, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He should spare them from seeing their friend completely gone. Crane had to do this on his own, like always. Cure whatever this was-

It was then he remembered the blue liquid.

" _The vials._ "

He patted around his belt area, combed what little pockets he had on his jacket, everything. But there was no sign of the pouch belt on him, not even the three tubes containing the blue glow. No weapons, no tools, not even his Companion phone. He had absolutely nothing on him except the rags on him.

" _Great... I must have dropped them somewhere. Wherever this place is._ "

Crane couldn't believe his own luck. He just got back his mind, got beaten to a bloody pulp by that woman in red, nearly became a roast zombie from UV light, couldn't return back to his so-called 'normal' life and **_he fucking lost the vials!_**

He sighed, hunching down his head. " _...Maybe it's for the better._ "

Maybe the Mother was right… They were a poison.

 _"...Are you stupid, Kyle? That means you're agreeing with that bitch."_ It left a foul taste in his mouth. " _...No. They had to be the cure-"_

He wanted to slap himself for thinking that too.

" _Look at what that 'cure' did to you!_ " he snarled at himself, even a vocal growl came out of him. "Know what? Good riddance to them!"

They were a lot more trouble than they were worth. They were a fucking dead end.

" _Ok._ " It wasn't the end for him. He couldn't give up. " _...Then I should retrace my steps. Get back to Harran._ " What was the last thing he remembered-

A throbbing memory batted him. The sight of three people looking at him terrified from the playground.

A mother and two children-

"Gaugh!" He groaned, holding his head and the anxiety peaked up like a trainwreck. _No, no. You did nothing to them._

 _Stop it._

 _Or else!_

 _Or else..._

He wouldn't forgive himself if he caused the lives of a mother and two children. No, Crane already didn't forgive himself after seeing the mess around him.

The scenery by the coastline was in shambles. Ruin and ash were everywhere with death sticking to every corner - smoke funneling out from all sorts of urban places. With his overpowering senses, he could hear and see the destruction. People were dying, screaming, running while the infected ravaged up the streets. The massacre was still upon the innocents, by the virus or by man.

This was the Harran outbreak all over again. Something brought the virus into this city and caused the mayhem.

The realization made Crane horrible inside. Completely sick to the stomach and overwhelmed that the bile shook right out of him, the acid stinging his throat as he threw up.

One more look back at the burning city around him.

He caused all this, didn't he? When he left that manhole, he…

He destroyed this city.

" _No... No, no!_ " He shook his head. Don't think about it! Calm down! " _I...I didn't-_ "

 _Stop denying it._

The voice again, softer. Was it doubt trying to trick him? It lured the part in him that wanted to know what happened to this city after he'd lost himself. But Crane was too terrified to learn the truth.

And? It didn't matter anymore. He couldn't deny it anymore when the results were around him: **_he_ **caused all of this.

"I did this... I brought the virus in..."

The Hero of Harran brought the end to this city and its people.

He failed.

Crane felt something wet in his eyes. His knees turned into jelly and he fell to the ground. The final blow was all it needed to break him.

Enough. It has been too long since he kept on a brave face, to show that he wasn't a wuss to anyone - because if he were to break, then everyone would break too. Now the facade no longer mattered to him. He wasn't a human anymore. He had no more reasons to hold it back.

So he broke out and softly wailed out his grief. He finally cried - like he did as a poor, small boy. A grown man...a Hyde of a man bawled his eyes out. Someone, please, take him away from all this.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to make amends, something, anything. Just stop this pain...

Kyle Crane was no hero. He was the bad guy instead.

Nobody could hear him - not the sleeping survivor in the trailer or the mindless walkers below him. He was crying at nobody to hear him and come save him. Yes, this time he really needed saving. He was too weak to climb back up on his feet.

But he was all alone in this world.

 _"Don't hold back!" came the yell._

Crane snapped his eyes open from the sudden vision. At the woman in red, holding her hands up like a boxer. With a maddening glare and a wickedly-large grin. The three words came to him as a powerful chant, for a second time. That was confidence he had never seen before - someone bold, looney enough to fight a beast like him. Brighter than gold.

And like a fire spreading, it stirred up something old inside of him. He could feel that fire in him too, just a little. He eyed down to the tiny dark spots on the ground - he had really spent all his tears out.

He was spent all right: uncertain, lost and tired. He was gone through being angry, being sorry for himself and denying everything within the hour. It was all a waste of time. Like the strange, monstrous voice said to him in his head, the damage was done beyond repair. Just accept it and be done with it, Kyle. Then he could move on...

Move on to what? He was back at square one. At this point of his...new undead life, Crane had no idea what he should be doing. He had no more goals left, nobody to guide him, no voice over the comms to tell him where to go. He _had_ nothing and he couldn't _return_ to anything.

Just this...disgusting, revolting body.

But his regained mind was still sharp as always, observant to the little details a human would see patiently. So his mind had to cross the t's and dot the i's at a single question.

"...Why am I back?"

It was a valid, good question. The whole retaining-his humanity thing was...strange. Well, it should be. The infected wasn't able to talk, think or be themselves again. The common infected couldn't come back after they've been...well, zombified. So why was he able to think? Why was he, out of the thousand zombies, able to return as himself...?

Himself-ish.

That was a start for him. Crane might as well let his curiosity get the better of him. Let the detective persona take over some work. He had nothing else to lose.

" _Ok. So I came back from being a zombie... That means something happened to me._ " It did something to the virus, alright. Pulling down a portion of his humanity back into his head when frankly, he wanted it gone so he wouldn't have to acknowledge his own predicament. But now he had to, hur-fucking-rah.

But he wasn't sure what the cause was. All he could recall was some gruesome taste in his mouth and a couple of parts about that whole fight with the lady...

Back to the lying, highlighted skeleton in the trailer, he trailed his narrowed eyes at.

"No way. She couldn't have..." That was absurd thinking. Like some random survivor he just happened to encounter helped him become sane again. " _Right?_ "

Was she the key to his problems-?

He frowned irritably at that question.

"And what? This lady is gonna help me get back to normal? Find out _why I can think_?! Great plan, Kyle!" he hissed at himself. A legit hiss of an animal from his own mouth. No, more like the mumbled wails of a infected Runner pleading that he was still there only to eat off his friend's face.

He didn't have the foggiest idea how it even happened. Just the knuckle sandwiches he had gotten, enough to knock an average Joe out. And the taunts. And a lot of pain. He didn't see an injection from her, no magic fingers that snapped his brain back to normal, nothing. C'mon. There had to be some other, more logical, theory why he came back.

" _Well, she certainly punched the living shit out of me... Maybe that did me in._ " The violent, explosive persona out of that woman probably scared his dangerous side right out of him. The best answer he could come up with - it sounded less ridiculous than someone having a _cure_.

He would admit one thing. That gal was a fighter. A scary one. And she had every right to fight him: Crane the zombie tried to kill her. His head was still throbbing from being bashed over like a punching bag. Maybe it should be the other way around about who was killing who. But what was the ballest thing she did was her using her fists at him. _Fists._ Not a weapon, **_fists_**. Hell, she even used her teeth.

Who the fuck does that?!

He massaged the bite wound on his shoulder. That was one memory he certainly wasn't going to forget. It still stung. " _Can't believe she bit me-_ "

Then a grim thought came to mind and the guilt came wrenching him from the inside.

" _Oh god… Shit, she shouldn't have bitten me..._ " He sighed shamefully, resting his head in his hands - ahem, claws. " _Dumb thing to say, idiot._ ** _I_ **_shouldn't have bitten her... Twice."_

His problems kept piling up and he had to add more onto others. He didn't know - didn't want to remember anymore - how many times he had bitten people. Infected them with the virus and transformed them into zombies like him? Worse, the idea of how many he could have ripped apart and murdered turned his stomach into soup.

Crane had to stop himself again. The more he tried to conclude, the longer he'd be in an endless loop of uncertainty. There was nothing he could do. The fact was right in front of him: he bit that woman and now she had the same affliction as thousands of people had. And without Antizin...she was going to become like him...

One more to his long list of victims this 'creature' took. What exactly that number was, he was uncertain other than maybe..."4".

He heaved in and out one deep breath, thinking long and hard. The hooded woman shouldn't have the same fate he went through, nobody should. And Crane had nobody with him to give him mercy when he lost it back at that manhole. He had always been the one to give the final blow to one close friend or a stranger and end their misery.

But he was wishful. Death shouldn't be an immediate answer.

" _She needs Antizin._ " Crane remembered the seizures that shook through his body, the mind-fucking hallucinations too. It was going to be the same cake-walk for the lady until Camden's cure was finished.

And he asked himself, that was when? Should he even try to look for a bottle to prolong her life?

He shook his head. Had he forgotten? " _They stopped dropping in Antizin, right...? She's gonna turn like me..._ "

One step at a time, he would worry about the whole lack of Antizin later. But he had come to the conclusion that he was out of options. The decision was feeling a lot heavier on his shoulders now.

Alright...he'd do it. If the woman lost the fight to her infection, then...he'd be the one to end her life.

He was the one responsible for giving her the virus, he should be the one responsible to take her infected self down. That was the least he could do for her… He was a zombie now. They kill with absolutely no remorse or emotion. He might as well oblige like it was the latest trend.

...But only if the woman was too far gone. He honestly hoped for that.

"Sorry, lady." No way was she going to hear him way up from his perch. But Crane wanted to say it. "If that happens...then I'm the one who's gotta end it for you." He had a new goal to keep, his first task in this undead life. It sickened him but...there was nothing he could do. He'd have to keep an eye out on her for as long as possible.

With his goal set, he rose up on his feet. It was then and there that he saw something over the balcony. Another 'firefly' but it was small and on the ground, few feet away from the safehouse. It certainly got his attention that it prompted him to walk over to the glowing object - well, not a true walk like a human being. More like the trotting of some deformed ape in a concrete jungle.

He reached out a hand to what looked like a cell phone but he stopped. The tips of his talons started to singe a little, sharp pain needling in them. Crane quickly drew his claw back and bit his teeth down. Dammit, the phone was still within range of where the safehouse's UV lights beamed over.

Crane grimaced aloud. Just get it over with. He'd endure the burning again. Kyle kneeled closer and reach out-

Something shot right out of his hand. A snake!

" _Shit!_ " It scared him right off his feet, the phone whooshing up to him and right into his claw. His own arm had split apart and a tendril had fired out like it knew what he wanted before slipping back inside...him.

Ok. So he could grow vines out of him. Another new thing about himself.

" _Baby steps,_ " he choked to himself. " _T-Take baby steps._ "

Crane took the new alien-like biology off his mind by examining the phone. Something normal he could do. It was a cheap brand anyone could get in this day and age. From the get-go, it was a source of information. It was just like his previous Companion App was, reminding him of his list of objectives, map locations and all that.

However, Crane had one minor difficulty with it - a talon couldn't swipe the screen around so instead he was added more scratches to the already-cracked phone. Crane simply gave up halfway in exploring what was inside the contents. Of course, the phone was also water-damaged too. Most of the features weren't salvageable, except for a few notes. An in-phone diary.

"Tagged for drop collection with Siv. Should be quick and simple." That was the recent note. Next note, a couple of hours ago, read, "First day at the Junction and things aren't that terrific. Siv's a concern, not because of how much she might have heard...but how much she's been through. Like everyone else. I better keep an eye on her."

This was the woman's phone, wasn't it? He didn't see another survivor who dropped the device while running for her life. He continued on, trailing through the history.

"Got derailed into Scanderoon, lost Lenny's boat and nearly got eaten! At least I'm alive! Nobody at the Junction knows how or why the virus got in. But it certainly feels like I'm back at the Outskirts again."

 _"The Outskirts?"_ That was on the other side of Harran, completely closed off from the Slums. He had heard about that part of the city months ago. That place was the first evacuation zone set up before it got closed off when the infection had to be contained there.

What was more surprising was the woman herself - _she_ was from the Outskirts? " _That can't be right._ " But hey, now he knew where this city was. He had been right next door to Harran all this time.

A pang of contempt caused him to look back to the trailer - expecting the woman to discover she was without her phone but the skeleton slumbered peacefully. Not like he could go up to her and get his answers anyway. " _Yeah. Like she's not gonna try and kill me again…_ "

The rest of the notes were just small requests: pick up some specific items, scout nearby enemy outposts, go look for a fisherman by the riverbed(?) - her words, not his. But there was one piece he found to be most important and the most suspicious one, all the way at the bottom of the notes.

 _Find any special infected, test secret weapon and track their movements down if they survive. Asem's order._

That was an odd thing to write. Moreover, the lady had to be out of her mind - **_go find_** special infected and track them down? That was a death wish. And what was this _secret weapon?_ It was a tall order that even the old Crane wouldn't take. The details were too vague.

" _You sure are full of surprises,_ " he mumbled. Something about this irked him but he couldn't figure out why.

More reason not to get attached then. Whoever this woman was, Crane should knock it right out of the ballpark. It would make things a lot easier for him. Furthermore, he had to convince himself again: he wasn't human anymore. So he shouldn't be soft ever again. He's gotta be colder. This time, Crane couldn't give a pass to this stranger.

Look at what happened to him the last time he did that. He became a freak of nature.

Well, he did decide to come after her at the first sign of red eyes, black pulsating veins, grey skin and the compulsive need to eat people. If he had to find one good thing, it was that this little piece of fate was one good push for him to stay on the path. It was harsh, it was...heartless. But it was the only honest thing for him to do. It was official - the woman in red became his only reason for staying as this...thing.

He couldn't deny another thing about the woman. It was ironically like watching a film depicting a similar kickoff: his when he first arrived in Harran. It almost could be called a reflection from what he gathered from the conversation earlier - the woman was a new face helping out a group. And that new face had work given. Do some good deeds for the group, collect airdrops. The only difference between him and her on the first day was that he did it because he had orders to follow...until one day, GRE went too far and he realized where his loyalty really lied.

Oomph, a real blow to his conscience remembering everything linking to them and his lies. But he grinned at one good thing he did in his 'past life': He told GRE to stick it up their ass. He was done with them.

Alright. Enough stalling. Might as well get used to his new form in the meantime.

" _Guess I'll be sticking around, lady._ "

 _Ok, Mutant Kyle. Stop talking to yourself._ He was doing this for like, ten minutes or so.

He gave a good squeeze on the phone. Alright, Kyle. He knew how difficult it was starting up in a place cut off from society like this.

Time for work.

* * *

Everything was completely backwards for Crane - he had sorta accepted that but the more he walked in the shoes of an infected, the more he realized just how big his upside-down world became.

There were a lot of deductions he made. First off, the night was an infected's element. It made the Specials active, stirring out of their hidey-hole and into the city for wandering prey. And he sickly understood why - nighttime gave him full strength, just as powerful as drinking coffee in the morning. His own body was uncannily able to swing off the brawl and burns like it was nothing.

The second thing was the odd chemistry between his mind and body. Sometimes, it felt like he was wearing a costume that wouldn't move with him. Sometimes, it became second nature to him. Running on two eventually seemed slower to him that he...he found himself going about in a crawl now and then. Oh boy. But he was indeed quicker than Volatiles chasing him on two feet.

And then there was the absolute slingshotting himself across the roofs. He didn't have his grappling hook anymore but his newfound stamina was helping him fly quicker than a normal runner. Literally. He swished around like a bullet! Crane found himself spending half the time collecting some of the stuff listed on the phone.

For a short second, he thought to himself: why didn't he have this speed when he was doing drop collections in Harran? He could finish a lot of his tasks before the day was over! Heck, he could cut off more seconds from the record time he beat against the fastest runner from the Tower. It was incredible!

Then he quickly had to remind himself how wrong that was to him. The unnatural momentum seemed to comfort him in some way; as if he was in his own league. He was naturally learning, or maybe it was something the beast inside him easily experienced before he came. And that was scary to him.

" _Don't get too comfortable,_ " he 'thought-said' to himself. " _Who knows if you'll fall off the deep end again._ "

That feeling wasn't as provocative as before. Crane could still feel it lingering at the back of his skull, scratching at his door to let it out. That it'd be a good boy this time round. But he wasn't going to open the door for it. Ever. He needed to 'stay' as Crane until the job was done. Right in the middle of his traversing, he distracted himself with a bit of sightseeing, mentally marking down where his new landmarks were. The district he was in was industrial, nowhere near the playground and picket-fenced houses he remembered. Not even where the exact manhole was.

So what? He wasn't planning to go back. He had already made up his mind.

There was one note he made, going over the details in his head. At first, he never noticed it - back as a human, his main task outside the Tower was to avoid the major problems: the teeth, the claws, everything. The big brutes and the small walkers. But the more he moved about, the more he realized how unwanted he really was by the infected themselves. Sometimes, he stuck to the roofs for safety - like an old habit - and a few times, he was strolling through the streets without...too much of a worry. Wherever he went, he saw the common undead folk groan at him. In fact, they looked exactly the same as before, hostile as ever.

Somehow, they knew he wasn't one of _them_ anymore. Kyle had truthfully thought this form of his could be a sort of camouflage in plain sight. Well, that plan was out before it even started.

Then there were the 'special' infected. He couldn't in a way sense their presence. Back when he was human, his gut always told him to be careful before stepping out. It had helped him more times than he could count. But now, as a zombie, they were invisible to him. Kyle could hear them snarling at him four streets away, warning him not to come near.

These were their hunting grounds. Their prey was theirs.

Prey. That was a frightening, horrible thought but as long as there was nobody on the streets, it should be alright. Right? The thought of him lurking after a human and eating him up brought the knots back to his empty stomach and that idea jumped to the next one, that he might have already eaten someone.

One or two times, he wanted to throw up again. He tried to calm himself down, forced himself to pretend that never happened. _Don't even think about it_.

Back to mapping out the area for himself. Several streets away from the overpass, he found one area full of orange-lit skeletons. Big, small, all kinds of shapes. He gambled that this was the so-called Junction. Not an ideal place like the Tower having the high ground but they were well-stocked and prepared for any invasion - man or zombie.

And he was not going to test that. For now, the location was a mental note.

Crane did confirm one thing during his cruising around the blocks. There were _no_ airdrops to be found. Not a single one he could find. With the minutes ticking by and no container at all, he started to worry. Scanderoon was right next to Harran but would the Ministry of Defense decide not to send in rations here too? Actually, scratch that. They did try to bomb Harran so they might as well have turned a blind eye on Scanderoon. Crane had no idea how long this recent outbreak but it was still a grave thought that a second city might have been abandoned by the world.

But it also meant that sick people didn't have Antizin... Then-

No, stop. There were other reasons. The drops could have been picked up by raiders. By other survivors. He just needed to keep looking for those containers somewhere. It was the nighttime - no one was that stupid to be going for drops at this hour.

Another turn around the bend and Crane spotted three oranges at a two-floored store building. An odd place for three humans to be there: two at the bottom floor and one on the open top floor having a cigarette. They didn't even have a lot of UV protection for it to be a safehouse. From his current perch, he watched them pace about, thug style. Their hands were levelled up, holding something study.

Guns. Great. But he narrowed his eyes, almost branching as far as he could go from his perch for a better look. Right next to the top guy was a box.

An airdrop.

" _Oh, sure. Had to be the one guy with an assault rifle right in front of a container._ " They could be survivors too, maybe from that Junction so finders, keepers for them, he supposed.

Until he overheard them as he drew closer.

"This is stupid. Why the hell are we staying here?"

"Hey, be my guest and walk right out of here. Atilla and I will wait out the night. We take the airdrop back to Alexander, get our entries while you're a Volatile's dinner."

"This is insane," his partner grumbled, fidgeting in his seat. "I shouldn't be here."

"And what? Your cell was cozier?"

"At least it was safe! Don't tell me you're not afraid that those monsters will come in? These lights won't even hold it for long!"

"Please. They're slow and stupid. You can easily whack them down before they get a hand on ya."

"Seriously? They come in packs! Would you want to get eaten by those things or rot in jail? 'Cause I certainly prefer the latter right now."

Oh. So escaped prisoners. With guns. Whoopie. Well, they were a better choice than Rais' men.

"Stop complaining. We're not the only ones holding up here," one of them mumbled. "Saw that lady staying at the construction site a while ago."

"A lady? Oh-ho! It's been a long time since I had one. Maybe we should go see if she's doing alright. Spook her and pretend to come rescue her, eh?" He nudged his friend.

The other men chuckled. "Aye, I see where you are going. Then we better keep this under wraps. We don't want to share her." And they burst out laughing.

Crane clicked his teeth irritatedly. _Disgusting pigs._ And if there was another dirtbag scum, hoarding up Antizin and making good people suffer, he swore to God...

Wait, stop right there. Think about this.

He wasn't the old Crane anymore. There was no Kyle Crane the human. Ok, that man would still go up to those prisoners and beat the living day out - only if they gave him a reason to. It was survival of the fittest but it didn't mean he had to stand to the same level as crooks like them. He fought crooks all day back in the Slums, as a human.

And morals didn't matter to a zombie. Or rational thinking.

So if someone was going to be the bad guy in this city, he was going to make hell for them.

Now if only these thugs didn't have guns. Seriously? Who carries those surrounded by monsters that are attracted to sound?! And just because he was a zombie, didn't mean he was invincible. Top guy had a good view for anyone and anything that could sneak through the front door.

Plan, he needed a plan. And he was...genuinely good at making them on the fly. Could he just scare the top guy away? No, that would draw attention. He'd get _shot_ too.

His eyes snapped to his hands. Claws. It was claws.

" _Hm…_ " He hadn't tried the weird, alien biology again because he was still unnerved by them. Regardless, he held one claw out like he had seen one superhero do in the comics. Nothing happened. Crane gave a hard shake to his wrist and tried again-

His claw split open before his very eyes. The tendril fired out and roped around the unlucky bastard.

"Wha-?!" They snaked around his whole body and even around his mouth - the feeling of saliva and teeth making Crane cringe. Ugh! He pulled hard in hopes to untangle the tendril but that instead took the poor bastard over the wall. "AHHH!"

" _Oops._ "

The prisoner survived his fall, freed from Crane's grasp and not without a bit of a head injury. Then he frantically hurried to the door. "Shit! Shit! HELP ME!"

"What - What the fuck are you doing outside, Atilla?!"

"HELP ME! THEY'RE COMING!"

That probably could have gone more smoothly. But now Crane had no guard on the top floor. While the stragglers approached the screaming prisoner - his comrades telling him not to fire which in the end, he did anyway - Crane took the window of opportunity in the chaos and made his way up to the top floor. Pop off the lid and he found the usual: food, water, medkits. Enough for three, four people.

No Antizin.

The disappointment wasn't old to Crane but it wasn't increasingly crushing the more he searched. He had been beaten by the virus. But the woman was the other matter...

It was happening again. He squished his eyes tight to clear away the two sudden and cruel flashbacks.

 _Stop doing this to yourself..._

The noise outside the store building caught his attention. More walkers were heading to the prisoners' direction, angrier. Vocally threatening the strange prowler to back off. Hurriedly, he grabbed the stuff and bolted off. No need to stick around for the blood-soaked fireworks the prisoners were lying on themselves.

At least, that airdrop gave him the last things he needed from the list - excluding any requests that required a frontal meeting with the person.

So he was coming down to the last rope of his little collection quest. Shorter than his previous runs but, admittedly, doing the work gave him a welcomed sense of achievement. As if he was slowly going back to being...human. Laughable but he didn't reject it. Any sort of feeling like that, he'd grab it on as tight as possible.

Now he's got a bigger question in mind: how would he even remotely gonna give the supplies to the Junction?

Maybe he could pitch the supply bag right into the perimeter of their base-

"P-Please!"

Crane's hands and feet skidded like a cat coming to a stop. The plea came from his right, behind a metal fence. Three big orange skeletons standing before two small ones on the ground.

"You're those runners from the Junction, aren't you? Ain't it past your curfew?"

"Please! Let us go!"

Crane peeked around the corner for a clearer vision. Three thugs in prison attires and two runners, at another safehouse. There was something strangely appetizing in the air. Smelled like iron to Crane, giving a little itch in his mouth. He noticed one runner had her hands on her leg. One of them was injured.

"Hear that? Let them go," one of the men scoffed. "Sure, we could do that. You make good bait for these fuckers."

Frightened eyes widened even more at the sight of a dragging sledgehammer. One huff out and a prisoner heaved the heavy thing up. The youngest runner gapped silently and closed his eyes, hands latching over his head. It wouldn't do him any good: smashed like a melon.

 _THU-KACK!_ Sparks flew from a power box, shutting down the protective UV lights of the small generator room.

Crane couldn't believe it. They were sabotaging the safehouse.

"Stop! You're trying to get us killed?!" the injured adult hollered.

"And?" the packleader uttered. "It's your fault setting up near Alexander's property. You should have stuck to your own corner of this stinking city, lady."

"We should head back-" The third prisoner scanned his surroundings around, a nervous finger on the revolver hanging out of his waistband.

"What? You're scared? Just throw molotovs at those freaks," his heavy-weapon-wielding friend uttered cockily. "Better yet. Why don't we get these two bitten?" What? "They'll be good for the fighting ring. The boys' been needing more infected contestants."

"N-No," the runner's friend whimpered.

"Nah. They won't survive a minute anyway. We should use them as our little moles instead." The packleader squatted down to the runners' panicked eye level. "Alexander's been thinking of expanding lately. And your Junction is looking mighty nice for his new throne."

Anger swept across the adult runner's face. Even she had the same kind of revolt and shock as Crane had. These people were mad, dangerous and wouldn't listen to reason.

"Why say you make it easy for us? You can put the good word to your boss that we just want to help each other. We can offer protection for you." A hand creepily slipped down, disgustingly groping over the woman's thigh. "It's every man for themselves-"

"Pbft!"

She spat at the prisoner. Bold and daring. Get off her, her furrowed eyes and grounded teeth warmed him. "Come near the Junction and we'll fucking kill you!" she threatened.

The packleader simply glared at her with ice in his eyes. The fist came out of nowhere.

 _POW!_

"Fazil!" her younger companion yelped, dropping his body over her as a desperate attempt to shield her.

"Settle down, boy!" the prisoner barked, grabbing him by the hairline and tossing him aside. The loss of balance tumbled the poor boy right into the presence of the sledgehammer guy, the long handle pushing down on his apple.

"Orhan!" the woman shouted.

"Don't worry about him!" She didn't see the crowbar coming down on her open wound but the lighting pain struck her down. And the packleader pleasantly relished her agonizing screams.

The yells hit a chord inside of Crane. He almost jumped in. Almost. The usual by-the-book protocol of not leaping forward first when lives were in danger. Scanderoon was a different location for Crane but throughout his short expedition, he had been counting down the many similarities between this outbreak and the last.

The darkest part of humanity was still the same as it was in Harran. He took back what he had thought: the crooks before him were no better than Rais' men.

 _Go off the rails. They can't hurt anyone anymore._

"What is wrong with you?!"

"Wrong?" The leader turned his attention to the young runner with a hungry, playful look. The youngster immediately regretted his outburst as the thug strolled up to him and grabbed him, one meaty hand on his collar. The attention was off the runner's friend, and the crowbar off her wound. She wailed out again, skulking on the ground. "It's a free country now. No rules, no cops. These streets are ours now. We're the kings here. And you peasants better behave."

"P-Please. Just let her go." The second runner was trying his best to be brave, hoping to give his friend a chance to crawl away. However, the wound had opened up further. She was too weak to even run.

A pause hung. Orhan almost thought they would partially give that one final wish for them.

"Nah," the packleader mocked and wheeled back to the woman. "She's gonna die anyway."

"No! Stop! Stop!"

The crowbar went up. Aimed right for her skull.

All of a sudden, the packleader saw a pair of something golden in front of him. He looked further up to the fence of the safehouse - at first, thinking some nosy guy was trying to interrupt them.

Then his face twisted with terror and the crowbar drooped low.

A monster readied itself over the fence.

 _Enough._

It lunged.

"Rraaagh!"

"Gaa-gaaaargh!" The packleader was down in milliseconds. The sight of tendrils wrapping around him horrified him as his scream was cut short by the canines digging into his jugular and ripping it out.

Then the whole yard exploded.

"V-Volatile!"

"SHIT! SHOOT IT!"

 _Next one!_ The prowler darted left and right towards his target. The gunner panicked, jerking out his gun to shoot. But the firearm wouldn't come out - the slide caught by his belt loop. The monster closed the distance between them fast and while the gunner finally got his weapon loose, the two shots were frantic misses.

Teeth came an inch to his nose.

"AH! AHHHH!" Down went the yellow-bellied thug, his chest opened up like a bloody present.

The thug with a sledgehammer dropped both the runner and weapon before turning tail. There was no point in staying and he had hoped the Hunter would go after the runners instead.

"Garh!" _Thud!_ He lost his footing but it wasn't from a trip. Something snagged his ankle. And pulled him back. "Ahh! Ahhh!" The last prisoner tried to escape, latch onto anything to get him away. "Someone help me!"

No one was coming. Nothing was within reach for him, except dirt and leaves. He foolishly glanced back to the beast, now right on top of him. These fools _welcomed_ him in by shutting off the blue lights!

The prisoner desperately tried anything else, a mere punch to its side. Pathetic! There was nothing to stop _him!_ The blood rage gave him that tunnel vision.

 _Kill!_

"AHHHH!" That was the last scream out of the beefy man. Another neck torn open.

Out the infected man roared. _I'm not done!_ He could still take more of those jerks! Make them be afraid. He was _the king_ , this was **_his hunting grounds_** -

"NO! NO!"

He snarled at the next voice. The next prey!

Then he stopped.

"Aaah! Aaaah!" the survivor beneath him wailed with overflowing tears and arms shielding up. The hesitant creature watched the runner hopelessly tremble - he wanted to get away from the beast but the wall of the safehouse blocked his back. All hope was lost for Orhan that he sunk deeper into the ground, into a small ball. He was the next meal for the Hunter. He finally gave up on the spot, and in petrifying fear.

It slowly registered in Crane's head. Like a swim back up to the surface. He found himself right on top of the poor runner - a young adult. About _Rahim's_ age. Crane was almost ready to rip a kid apart!

Oh god... _Oh_ ** _god_** **.** What was he doing?

 _No... No. Wait! I'm not a monster._

He was still Kyle Crane.

With every ounce of mental strength, Kyle pulled himself back - shoved the monster back inside the closet of his mind - and physically, he also stepped back. That the big, ghastly Hunter meant no harm to the runner. Anything to show that he wasn't going to hurt him! But that wasn't enough for the poor young man to feel safe. He was badly shaking like a leaf and Kyle couldn't blame him, he was inches close to a fucking zombie for goodness' sake!

The first thought Crane had: he should leave the kid alone. Make him know he had a chance to flee, to be safe somewhere else. An idea quickly came to mind as his glance wandered down to the supply bag he had been carried.

That was it! What he could do to make the runner feel okay!

He crept a little closer and halted at the sight of the young man being more terrified from the closing distance. No, it was now or never!

So the Hunter chunked the supply bag right into the runner's lap.

"W-Wha..." Orhan stopped cowering. The sudden dumping of a large bag completely baffled him. At a _non-hostile_ zombie suddenly handling it over to him. This was like a dream just interrupted into a nightmare. Moreover, what made it more baffling to Orhan was watching the Hunter step a good five feet away. Nothing more.

This wasn't real, right?

"Get away from him!"

" _Gargh! Ugh!_ " The burning sensation again! Crane darted away from the source, arms up.

"Come on!"

"F-Fazil!"

Crane's eyes irritatingly peered through his shield once the scorching stopped. The woman got him from behind and blasted him with a UV flashlight. The moment of vulnerability bought enough time for her to help the young man back on his feet and both limped away.

That was good, even if Crane got more than he bargained for. However, it wasn't good enough for the two - it was still evening, the runners had no safehouse anymore and one was leaving behind a trail of blood. The UV flashlight could only do so much protection but if they weren't careful while searching for the next safe place, the Biters would be coming after them.

He should follow, keep watch from behind. Until they were absolutely safe, he wasn't going to stop worrying!

But his legs wouldn't move for some strange reason. There was a piercing feeling on the left side of his abdomen. Crane traced his eyes down to find his right claw on something poking out from the spot. Where the feeling pulsed from.

Opening up his talones one by one revealed a handle to him. A dark color spread out on his torn shirt. Like dye.

" _Shit._ "

A shiv was in him. Shit, _the shiv was in him_.

He couldn't help but give out a laugh. " _R-Relax. Just relax._ " Losing it now was only going to make the pain worse.

Should he take it out? No, he might bleed profusely. But he had no idea if his new body was just the same as a human's. Did zombies have pumping hearts?

" _Oh, fuck it._ "

Clutching his teeth down and inhaling one deep breath, he then pulled.

"AAARGH!"

An inhuman shriek wormed out of his mouth as he recoiled down on the stab, his claws hastily holding down the bleeding. His mind screamed - god it really hurt! It REALLY hurt! It didn't help that the UV hit made him a little lightheaded. Inhaling and exhaling.

" _C'mon,_ " he groaned. " _You've faced worse!_ "

It would be totally, fucking, hilarious that after everything he's been through, he would be done in by a stab wound! Fate really had it in for him, huh?!

Focus, Kyle. Focus. He had to close the wound. Though, just as fate had been giving him the finger many times, fate seemed to give one small helping hand as an apology. Amazingly, there was a piece of gauze near his feet.

The runner must have dropped it when the two bolted. Maybe by accident or as a quick return for the flavor, but whatever, he took it as a sign and hurriedly dressed up the wound. Just to last him enough time until he could do something more for it.

Crane bit down again on the agony zapping through his whole body. He thought over his next steps with bated breath.

Ok...ok. He should look for something to stitch the hole up. A safe place too. Away from survivors and the infected. And there was one more thing he had to do too. It had been part of his plan for the entire supply search.

 _C'mon, Kyle. Just a bit more... Leg it._

* * *

The stab was a major setback on Crane. It doubled the length of his return trip for him. He was completely rendered down to an agonizing crawl: no more swooshing around in record speed until his wound recovered. The dizziness didn't help him much as he tried to recall back his way to the overpass. If it hadn't been that one orange glow on the floor, far away in the distance, he most certainly would have been lost elsewhere in these unfamiliar alleyways.

The construction site was his first pitstop. Literally, Crane was a little jealous at how comfortable the woman in red was behind walls. He missed the sleeping bags. Oh, he really missed them.

He approached the outer, 'outer' zone of the trailer safehouse, ten feet from the ultraviolet rays, and pulled his head covering off - some scarf he didn't remember dawning on himself. Perhaps somewhere in his feral time as the monster, he must have subconsciously put the rags over his face. Out of fear someone would recognize him and learn that Crane has become a zombie?

Who knows, not even himself. But now that he has resurfaced in his head, what was the point in hiding his horrid face anymore? He was too scared to see what he looked like in the mirror.

So horrifying that two runners fled from him? _Sounds about right._

The cloth was a good idea for a cushion: he wrapped the phone right up, along with a few things he thought would help the fighter. It did for him in his human 'past life'.

" _Oh, this is gonna hurt. Again._ " He readied himself. "GARH!"

Up and over the fence the package went. A sloppy disk throw and the cost was the lesion pulled. Yup, there was no winning this fight. The outburst and the loud but muffled groans weren't enough to wake the woman up - sleeping like a rock while the whole city burned. But that was for the better: she shouldn't find out about her grotesque guardian. Correct. More like her angel of death.

Now the wound. And hurry. Crane could feel himself slipping.

He's gotta stay. Before he could finish the job - take this woman out of her misery when the virus would kick in. He owed that much to her. He did it twice before… He would do it.

Crane had to do this.

 _Stay awake! You've gotten through the first hurdle. You could stay conscious just a bit longer! Just flex the pain off._

His body wasn't listening to him anymore. A tumble and he dropped to the ground. No, not here. Too open and unsafe! He could hear them coming. The other walkers' snarls were louder, more directed at him. It was no different now than it was when he was a human - and the smart thing for a human to do was to get to a safe place.

Thankfully, it came to him along the stretch of road he was on: a crashed ambulance bunkered into the barricades. Which meant medical supplies. Which frigging meant he could close up the stab wound!

Crane used his remaining ounce of energy to crawl into the back, not enough to shut the door completely behind him. Just a peek of the white half-moon gazing through the gap. Where did they keep the needle and thread?

No good. He couldn't hold himself. Crane rolled over on his side-

And she was there. Sitting beside him. Completely unfazed that she was sharing the same space as a monster. What...why was she even there? But Crane's mind was too numb from the pain to ask that question.

It was still a silver lining to see her face. It wasn't twisted with the infection. Blood-red eyes weren't glaring down at him. She was just how he remembered her before her death - the brave, serious face she wore. The best fighter from the Tower.

For some reason though, she looked at him grievously.

This was another hallucination. But Crane didn't care at this moment. What made it upsetting for him was that she had to see him like this. Just a shell of a man.

" _Jade…_ "

Sorry. He's been doing a shitty job, even as this freak.

However, there was a sort of gentleness to her - she understood. No words but she got it. Just get some rest. There's always tomorrow.

Yeah. He agreed.

Just let him sleep this pain off...

* * *

A/N: So, revamping in 21/10/19. This chapter got a lot better than the original chapter plot. Even a huge improvement on Crane's perspective into his new undead life. And yes, Crane is back, the protagonist of Dying Light, the Following and now the Descent. Jack has always been planned as a deuteragonist from the start, with that red herring at the start of this arc. She will pretty much stay that way onwards to the end.

Also, don't worry. Crane's not dead. Again. I'd be a jerk to remove him from the fic, since he's pretty much the face of the first game anyway. Anyhow hope you like this chapter! Thank you so much also for the reviews!

26/10/19 - reedited for mistakes and small changes.


	5. FOUR: RIVALRY

Chapter Summary

 **\- THE CANDIDATE**

 _Another day survived. Another night alive. It doesn't get old. But I would be lying if I didn't say I was apprehensive after that fight. Something about that Hunter… That wasn't a normal infected back at the church. Could it be a candidate for Bones' project? - Jack_

* * *

 **FOUR: RIVALRY**

* * *

In Scanderoon, the citizens have learned a new thing as those in Harran did: the night was the most dangerous. Over the two weeks, mankind had to adapt and learn - barricading themselves into their own homes or buildings. Some safe places failed, others were reinforced, stocked to the rim on bullets and supplies. During the night, sleep was one escape within the protective walls.

However, sleep was also a double-edged sword. On one hand, all the worries were gone until the morning rolled over and the cycle for survival repeated again. On another, witnessing the fall around one would chip away a man's mind, giving way to the nightmares eating them whole.

One's mind could endure so much before it snapped under the weight from the zombie-filled reality. Some have taken it far: they either resorted to drastic, primitive ways just to escape the living nightmare. Some attempts were darker.

Jack had been through many ordeals and was still able to knock herself out for forty winks. She needed the energy back to run another day. To fight again. She knew her own limits and as a trained professional, she knew to keep the pace going, or to time the blows well. After all, she wasn't the spring chicken anymore - one wrong move and it would be the end for the Wild Dog.

Over the days surviving two outbreaks, she had gotten used to the destruction and death far better than normal people. She wasn't normal of course, she was defiant - Jack had long learned to sink her teeth in and push through in the past. Nobody could do the job, no one had the courage or the guts to jump into harm's way, nobody was going to save anyone. Everyone dies and that was a fact of life, made much clear in the recent weeks.

So she had to take the job. She had taken many before the virus's uprising. She had already been down that black, dim hole many times that it was second nature to her.

That was why sleep was easy for her: she simply dropped herself right onto the sleeping bag in the trailer and closed her eyes. It had always been routine.

At least, there was one merit, like any other person would have. Sometimes, the dreams were peaceful.

"Jack."

Soft. Muffled. The smell of cheap-ass Turkish tobacco. Altogether poked at her annoyedly to wake up. But she snuggled back down. The cushions were too nice to wake up from. So give her five more minutes.

"Hey, Jack."

Then she felt a heavy hand shake her shoulder.

"Jack."

"I'm up." She bolted up suddenly, only to be overwhelmed by vertigo. A dumb mistake to do and now she had to pay, squishing her eyes shut and open to wash it out. "...I'm up."

"Burn another night again?"

Shaking her head, she tried to get comfortable on the old sofa of the gym's office as her early bird took to the coffee table opposite her. A couple of swallows to dampen her dry mouth and Jack glanced up to her old manager, Mert.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was enjoyable," she chided but she didn't share the same enthusiasm from his little antics. Or whatever it was - the man had barely any facial expressions to remotely show any form of emotion. In order words, he was one of the few people Jack could never get a read on.

But also one of the fewest people she could truly trust.

"Hmph," huffed the manager. "I did say this gym is yours since day one but I didn't mean for you to exhaust yourself over training."

"No, no." Jack rubbed off the sleep dust in her eyes. Actually, a lack of sleep dust. "Had some things to take care of. Nothing big... What time is it?"

"Nearly noon." The old man was patient, watching her exhume out a long yawn. Gradually, his smile turned upside down. "It was Savvas again, wasn't it?"

And there it was: Mert's read on Jack herself. The man was incredibly good at seeing the signs. Of course, he had trained many fighters for decades to know every single jab and kick. The brunette just starting her prime years was no different to him.

She sighed. She wouldn't be able to feign ignorance anyway, not to Mert. "Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"I've been with you for how long? Five years now. I know every trick in the book, Jack."

Jack inhaled deeply. She should have just denied it, throw out a statement to turn the conversation around. Instead, she gave to the listening ear Mert offered. "I don't know how he found out… Thought I made sure all my corners were covered."

"I taught you enough that paranoia is not a good thing in the ring."

"Yes, you've taught me that. But the things I've done...can't be too careful. I just...couldn't let it go." She slumped back in her seat, softness cushioning the back of her head. "Thought I could make his goons go away, cut my trail and call it a day."

"You should have come to me immediately," Mert said with concern. "We really should go to the police-"

"Mert. I told you. This man is untouchable." She looked at him dead in the eye. For once, the Wild Dog was a little...afraid. The infamous, unbreakable _fiend_ in the kickboxing world knew the word, fear. "The police, Interpol, anyone on this planet, are right in his pockets anyway." Another sigh out of her lungs. "And...you do know if I were to go to the police...I go with him."

"Because of the things you've done."

She nodded dejectedly. "It's my word against his-"

"Bah! That's a load of bull and you know it."

"Mert. Vlachos' not just some thug from the street-"

"Please. I've dealt with the mafia twice. Put me in a room with him and he'll go down from a slugger to the side."

She chuckled softly. That was a nice comment but it wasn't enough to dull down the doubts away. Mert was a gentleman with a great right hook and the stern personality of a bull. In his line of work, he didn't see the dividers everyone did - race, gender, age, mistakes. The one thing he set his eyes on was the fighting spirit. He could see potential and it had to be moulded into place with enough discipline and training.

But he was still one man - an honest middle-class man. She couldn't burden him with her past mistakes.

"...Honestly, I should have left everything," Jack confessed. "Then I wouldn't be in this bloody mess. And _she_ would still be-"

"Stop." It did break a little of the old man's strong wall even before she could finish her sentence. "You know this, Brecken. She was the kind of person who would never abandon her closest friends."

"Friend…" Such an odd thing to say to Jack. "Don't think a person like me deserved that title. I was cutthroat through and through."

"So? You were stubborn. Both of you were. Everyone has to start their hands dirty," he explained "I told ya before, it's all in the past. What I care about now is the present. So if that bastard lays one finger on ya with his money-grubby hands, I'll break every bone in his body."

Now Jack would love to see that. "Thank you for the gesture, Mert… But I don't want you to get hurt."

"You don't give me enough credit. I still have ten more years left in me," he boasted.

Another laugh out of the kickboxer, a little louder. Her manager was an unreadable man but he sure knew how to make it amusing for her.

"Now." Mert climbed off his seat slowly, a few needles in his old knees. "How about we give empty, hm? Got something to show you downstairs."

Jack cocked an eyebrow but the old man headed for the door without an explanation. Surprises were a rare thing from the old trainer. Actually, it was a clear zero. But something had him chirpier than usual that morning.

Well, she needed to move her legs anyway. And get rid of the knots in her joints.

Mornings were something she disliked but for this normal day, the sunlight was relatively pleasant and warm through the blinds - a nice afternoon in the Outskirts of Harran, 2011. She had to admit it was one of her better days.

Across the busy, lively street, cars driving back and passer-bys moving on with their lives, Jack spotted the new advertisement at the cinema's front. Dead Tide II, coming to theatres in a couple of months, for Halloween - the first movie being a big hit over in America that they had to bring it over across Europe this year. Despite the banner being unfinished across the wall, she could see the ever-so-popular aboriginal-Australian actress in a ripped purple dress, boots, and wielding an assault rifle against the infected behind her. Starring as the fierce ex-cop in the movie.

"Seriously. I don't get the appeal in zombie movies," she mumbled to herself. "Always about screaming and the fake gore. Nowhere near as entertaining as psychological horror."

She exited out of the office, spying Mert leaning over the second-floor railing. Something certainly got the man's interest. And once she neared closer, she spotted the surprise immediately. Down below them, at one of the punching bags, was a woman much younger than Jack. Sure, to some people, this was just a new face at the gum, practising her jabs. To Jack and even, Mert, the black-haired woman was more than that.

"Well, well. Isn't that-"

"Hm-hm," Mert confirmed it. "Jade Aldemir. In my gym."

Now Jack understood the inquisitiveness within her manager's mellow eyes. Another big name right inside Mert's gym - a kickboxer rising through the ranks, faster than most rookies the Wild Dog had seen over the years. But that was the thing: Jade Aldemir was still just another rookie in most eyes, even to Jack herself. Until she heard the youngster had just finished her latest match against the Oni last year. The Oni - the terrifying demon of the 21st-century kickboxing from Japan. Now this 'rookie' had finally made her way up all the way to the upcoming Global Trial Championship this year.

Where and when she would be face to face with the Wild Dog, three-years world champion.

Quite frankly, Jack thought she would cross paths with the young kickboxer the following year, not soon. Yet that achievement showed the girl's great velocity. As well as the girl's audacity - coming to Jack's turf like that. It actually brought a grin to the Wild Dog.

"Think she came here to see the competition?" she asked.

"As long as she's paying, she's welcomed here." Mert took a deep puff from his cigarette, trailing his gaze from the young fighter to the unstoppable champion.

There was a certain glint he spotted off the brunette's smile. He had seen all types from her: the wide, wicked grin she'd give during first stage Mad Jack introduction or the cocky smirk to any opponent she wore outside the ring. This time, however, there was a calming sort of demeanor as she watched the youngster below.

Maybe a reminiscence of her past?

"Why don't you go down there and introduce yourselves?"

The grin was gone. Jack gave Mert the raised eyebrow - did she hear him wrong? No, he meant it. "Really? Just like that?"

"You two are gonna be head-on in the next match anyway. It's all about good sportsmanship."

"Spying on your opponent at her trainer's gym is not what I would call "good sportsmanship", Mert."

"She's daring. Kinda like you."

"Pft, please." The confidence was back again, tenfold. "Just because she won against the Oni, doesn't mean she's ready for me. She's got a long way to go, Mert."

"Maybe she'll surprise you. Or it'd be the other way around. Go down there and talk. Nothing wrong with a little chatter between players."

Mert was sure that was enough coaxing - he could read the uncertainty in the eyebrows. The woman had a very difficult time opening up to most people and gradually, she lost that internal argument. With a slap on the railing, she obliged and headed for the stairs.

"And behave yourself."

"Since when have I ever misbehaved?" she chided with a wave of her arms. How 'offended' she was at that comment.

The old man simply snorted at her, adding a small cough.

Down the metal stairs Jack went, her eyes never leaving her rival - six, seven years younger than her. And the feisty fighter wasn't alone - just outside the punching area was a much younger man, just about right to be ready for college. There were similar features between the two - same facial structures, same black hair color, except the eyes. If Jack had to guess...the brother. Who clearly was not here to do the equipment like his sister. After all, the brood was not only scrawny - the builders here could easily pick him up and toss him away - but he was in his own world, sitting on a bench with full attention on his phone. Playing some app Jack had seen most kids do in buses and trains just to pass the time.

Odd though. If the young boy wasn't interested in tagging along with his sibling, then he would be off doing his own thing for the afternoon. Siblings fight, right? Even Jack herself had her spiteful moments with her cousin.

 _Ding!_

The front doors opened but that suddenness didn't contrude Jack from her path once she reached the first floor. It was a simple dodge and a "excuse me" out of her. But she did peek back at the new face. Because he did stand in the way, far too long than he should have - rather rude to do so at the entrance. He simply loitered there, his strange attire clearly not appropriate for vigorous training anyhow. The stranger should take his leave quickly if he wasn't here for the gym - Mert did not like window-watchers or freeloaders.

But what was most unusual for Jack was the man concealing his face. The cloth over his head made it difficult for her to get a read on but one small detail was noticeable was the focus he had on one particular thing. He wasn't completely aware that he had nearly tumbled into Jack herself. So Jack followed the trail to the object of his attention: to the young kickboxer at the punching bad. Actually, might even be both her _and_ the boy.

Jack glanced back once more, the distance between her and the stranger getting further and further. Despite looking like some crook planning to rob the gym, the eyes were...awfully sad for some reason.

Although...was there supposed to be a guy standing by the door? That wasn't how she remembered from the memory. But she ignored him. Like he never existed in the first place. Jack's attention was back on the rookie, all the way to the practice area. The moves were far more interesting to study than some hobo walking in. Seemed like the youngster favored the jabs a lot - she had heard the young woman's signature move was a good butterfly kick. Like the swift tail whip of a scorpion.

There was a peek from the rookie now and then. She obviously noticed the older woman observing but didn't tear away from her target.

 _What, trying to one-up me,_ Jack thought. _Tempting-_

"You know you're being a creep, right?"

The voice came from next to Jack, making her gaze down to the young boy - now giving a hard look that said, "back off from my sister". Green eyes were off the app, little explosive sounds and bright visuals happening on the screen.

Jack didn't step back... How could she play with this?

"And?" she started with a cheeky tone in her voice. "I was only checking her out. Maybe get her number too."

The eyes widened at the remark. Then he hurriedly scrambled to his feet - clearly having the wrong idea written all over his face. How cute. "H-Hold on there!" he barked angrily. "You...you're not her type."

"Oh? She has a type?" Jack tilted her head, purposely planting her eyes on the puncher, just to make the youngster get even more riled out. "Strong legs. Good flexibility. Intense stamina and she knows how to pace it out…" Jack did one final blow: closing to the boy's ear with a whisper. "I can take her."

That did him in - the uncomfortableness draping over him thick at the idea a total stranger was trying to score with his sister. Didn't matter if a guy or a gal, it still was **_his sister!_ **The cheeks were flushed bright red as he fumed silently, trying his best to fight back. Speak up. "Wha - you - now hang on a minute here!"

Jack held in a chuckle. The boy clearly made a scene that a few heads turned to him. Oh, she was gonna have a lot of fun with this naive ankle-biter. And she wasn't even making it intimate, she was literally pointing out the rookie's skills. The poor boy's imagination simply filled in the gaps.

"Y-You don't get to date my sister! She's off! Period!"

"I don't think that's possible, kiddo. Not with our appointment coming up."

"Wait! What?!"

"Rahim," finally, someone intervened. Jumping into the conversation with a discontented expression, the fighter stood between him and Jack. "You can be so dense sometimes." She then took a firm, stern stare at the Wild Dog. "You're Jack Brecken."

Jack smirked mellowly, with palms out front. "Guilty as charged."

The younger woman showed no signs of shock and awe in the presence of a champion - she had been so used to it by now, facing gods in the previous matches. But her brother, Rahim, was a different case.

The moment the name was ushered and Jack commended to it, his entire body froze on the spot. Shoulders hunched up tightly and eyes were much wider than before, dinner plate size. He had heard of her reputation - the more aggressive side though. But he had never taken a visual memory of how the Wild Dog looked like. Without knowing it, he tried to give lip to a kickboxing world champion. Now the little rabbit was in for it.

"Don't put yourself in a pickle, dearie. I get that all the time."

That seemed to calm the boy down. Sorta. He was in the shadow of a legend.

"I thought Jack was a guy's name," Rahim choked innocently.

His sister rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

Jack shrugged. "Never liked my real name. Nobody took me seriously as a child."

"Ugh. I know the feeling," her rival groaned. So she had been ridiculed for a feminine name in her childhood.

"For what it's worth," Jack turned back to the tense boy, flinching at the worrisome thought she was going to punch him. "Admirable to be standing up for your sister there. This world needs more people like you."

The words were encouraging, warm enough to bring back the boy out of his timidness. Rahim was about to say something with a growing smirk when his sister took over the conversation.

"More like I'm the one cleaning up his messes."

"Jade!" He turned to Jack, clearly seeing the hidden giggle she kept in. "She's kidding! I-I don't get into trouble!"

Jack ushered out a chuckle and held out her hand, a sign of good gesture. "It's nice to meet you both, Rahim. And Jade Aldemir."

"So you know?" Both siblings shook it - the girl with a firm grip, then her brother a weaker one.

"Who doesn't? You've made quite a name in the past year. Fastest kickboxer to make it to the finals. Bloody impressive, if you ask me… How was Eijun in that last fight of yours?"

"What else. Ferocious with his knockouts but too narrow-sighted he didn't see the twist coming. But..." There was a slight pause, the rookie visibly wanting to add something good instead of making herself out to be a jerk. "He's a good fighter."

"Sounds about right. Old chap isn't called the Oni for nothing," Jack pointed, easily recalling her own match against the Oni. Now the next curious question. "So. What's a rising star doing in this neck of the woods?"

"Well. I wanted to check you out too," Jade boosted, following after Jack's earlier ruse. "You are my competition."

"Can't deny that," she chided. "And have you learned anything from me?"

The younger woman folded her arms with a stern, puzzled glance. "You're not what they say on TV. Everyone made you out to be some madwoman in person."

"You're not alone on that one," Rahim mumbled, just enough for Jack to hear despite his best to conceal it.

This again, the misunderstanding prompting the older woman to sigh. "Oh, come now. That's all for show. You give the audience what they want and they'll lap it all up quickly. You of all people should know that," she explained, seeing the young kickboxer quietly give a nod of agreement. "If I were to be nice and composed all the time, think how bad it'd be for my reputation."

"True… Kind of a disappointment," Jade exclaimed.

Now that was an odd thing to say. "That I can't be a normal person in my personal life?"

"Oh, please. Even I can't always be like I am in the ring every single day." Jade now had an arrogant gleam in her dark eyes. "I was just thinking it's a real shame Wild Dog's not everything I thought she was."

The smile on Jack's face was still painted but the eyebrow rose up as she took a bit of time to digest that remark. "Excuse me?"

"Jade. What are you doing?" the nervousness snaked out of the boy's mouth. But his sister didn't hear him. She had a daring goal set in mind.

"You're acting like a proper lady in front of an opponent. Who does that?" Proper lady? Jack knew nothing about forks and spoons. "I didn't come here for the courtesy treatment, be all disgustingly girly, kiss cheeks then leave. I came to see Wild Dog herself. In action."

"Ahahaha, no," Jack uttered sternly. She knew where this was going. "We're already going to fight each other in a few months' time. There's no point in doing it now."

"What? Can't I see the real deal right now? I'm here to prepare myself."

Ok, Jack would give her that. She would definitely want to feel the heat of the fight within these walls, see this rookie's fighting style up close and personal. But she had to remind herself one dilemma, hidden from the two youngsters, Mert and everyone else in the gum: Jack's bruises hadn't recovered from last night's ordeal. She was still in yesterday's clothes and with aches that sleeping on a couch didn't help her recover. If she were to accept the proposal, she'd only be regretting it tomorrow morning.

"Don't you know it's better to savor the flavor rather than rushing it?" Jack asked playfully. "We might just find each other pretty bland in the tournament instead. Why, it won't be exciting to look forward to."

"Oh please," Jade scoffed. "You aren't the patient type." Well, she wasn't wrong about that. "C'mon. Three minutes. Everything goes."

Wow, she didn't know when to quit. But Jack knew when not to begin. "While I do admire you for being ballsy, this grown-up has a tight schedule today. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jade. Rahim."

Ended it right there, like the proper adult should do. But it was only a couple of steps Jack took-

"What? Wild Dog's chicken?"

Oh.

 _She did not just go there._ The insult's mark put its grubby paws right on Jack's shoulders, urging her to shrug it back and turn around. She gradually did just that to see Jade's bold, taunting smirk and the restless waving of her gloved hands. A low, growing laugh crept from the pro's mouth.

"Dearie," Jack started, flashing a toothy grin. "You're gonna eat those words."

Jade smirked cockily with a presentation of her arms. "Show me then. It's been all bark from you."

There were a few "oooohs" nearby. Some onlookers had stopped and overheard the talk ramping up. Rahim was the only one who walked back - he wasn't stupid enough to jump between his crazy sister and a rabid boxer. Now he wanted to go home.

Jack first glanced up - Mert was still at his usual spot, overseeing everything and certainly heard everything. With a light nod and a wave of his lit cigarette, he gave the OK.

Good. The chains were loose.

The crowd gathered around the patched-up boxing ring in the center while Jack readied herself and Jade took to her corner. The little rabbit, Rahim sunk far back from the growing, noisy wonder while the patient bull, Mert, watched attentively from above. More members joined in, eager to watch the unofficial match between two titles. Like a rare National Geographic episode between a venomous arachnid and a stray dog back to its natural roots, both animals willingly put in a hole to take a gander and fight. There were a few quiet bets in the background - the poison sting would take Jack down or the female alpha would bite down on Jade's claws.

Jack ignored them all. She wanted to see all the moves of the rookie, displayed and examined with a fine-tooth comb. The aches still pricked at her joints but know what? _Nothing cures yesterday's pins and needles like a good workout._

They took their stances, a few shakes here and there, some tiptoeing around.

And the fight began with the strike of the bell.

 _DING!_

Jade took the first attack. A fast right jab but Jack blocked it with her forearm. Then the left but again a block. The rookie was putting more into her punches, already impatient to take Jack down quick. She wasn't taking her time like Jack was doing.

"What are you holding back for?" Jade hissed, a bit angry at the defensive attempt. "Aren't you supposed to be rabid?!"

She fired her jabs again. Jack took them with her blocks.

The rookie had misread Jack's intention. She wanted to see how far she would go. So Jade didn't want to be babied. Show the professional that she was on the same level as her. Give it to her!

"Your bark's worse than your bite?!" Jade taunted. And fired a sweep at her.

Too early. Jack swiftly sidestepped like a wolf leaping back. And she returned the favor with a hook, catching Jade by surprise. The little moment of vulnerability was enough for the rabid hound to deliver another two punches, both dampened by Jade's block.

Both girls stepped back. Jade was starting to feel the burn but Jack was barely breaking a sweat.

"I've not been holding back, rookie," Jack sang, a small tint of ferocity spilling out. "I'm just getting started."

Second stage foam. Now the teeth were ready to bear down, even with the chain on. She danced on her tiptoes, firing her shots at the rookie. Jade didn't quiver back, however, and instead swung her jabs at the gaps of Jack's attacks.

Normally, most rivals Jack had fought would back off from her stalking and pouncing. But this one was different. She could see it in her eyes. She wasn't afraid of her. She was intent to go all the way to the end, regardless of who came on top.

That was giving Jack a rush. _So, rookie, you want_ _to_ _prove to me you can stand up against me?_

 ** _Then show me!_**

Jade swept a kick at Jack but her elbow quickly clenched down on it. With her balance thrown off as the older woman backed a step, Jade tumbled down.

"That was a dick move!" She shot back on her feet.

"Hey, this isn't even the real match. Why follow the rules?"

The young girl smirked with a few soft laughs and her fists back up. The glint in her black eyes said, "oh, I'm gonna like this."

Left, right, left, right. The crowd was roaring loud. Now and then, Rahim was mimicking weaker forms of Jade's hooks Jade in the background - slowly hyping that his sister would come out victoriously. Out of the boisterous audience, only Mert didn't move an inch from his perch but the excitement from the match below slowly etched a smile out into his wrinkled face. Now that was a good fight going.

Both women didn't stop, their spirits flaming just as big as the cheers around them. But Jack had underestimated her own stamina. Rookie was still keeping up while Jack was slowing down a bit from her last night's attempt at a coup caught up to her. Shit, fine time for the tables to be turning.

Then Jade launched her signature move at an opening, one leg up ready to whoosh down like a scorpion's tail.

Jack dodged it completely, her arms parried it off just as it went down. Now Jade had put herself into the opening. The older kickboxer squatted low and readied the frontal jump like a wolf would at a deer. The punch combo was fired and Jade was stunned by a front kick.

That wasn't Jack's signature move. But she had created it over the years as a bluff to her opponents, that she was coming in for the kill. Jade should have expected that - it was on every TV match - but she was still fumbled by the surprise-attack.

"Oh, c'mon. That wasn't that bad!" Jack droned, closing in on the kid-

Then suddenly, the young kickboxer lashed out with something white and blotchy-red.

"Whoa!" That was teeth! Trying to take a big chunk out of her! "What the-"

Huffed growls made Jack glance up. The young kickboxer didn't have her healthy complexion anymore. In fact, her body was contorted and twisted, eyes went white and hollow, and skin blistered with darkened veins. The best thing Jack could make a comparison of what she was seeing before her: her rival looked like the spitting image of one of those monsters from the movie banner.

"J-Jade?" What just happened?

"You left me to die…"

"What?" Jack uttered, confused. She didn't understand.

"You left me to die, _Kyle!_ "

"Jade, hey, now! Snap out of it! W-Who the bloody hell is Kyle?!" Some ex-boyfriend or something?

 _"Youleftmetodieyouleftmetodieyouleftmetodie!"_

It was like an episode from an old mystery horror show she had seen once. Everything about this was unreal, unfamiliar, uncontrollable. Jack stepped back - the Wild Dog with her tail between her legs at this change of the scene. The script had derailed away from its climactic scene because of a last-minute actor's decision.

And at a drop of a pin, the climax hit its peak.

"GAAAAARGH!" the young kickboxer screamed.

"Shit!" Jack cursed. She bolted. "Shit! **_Shit!_ **"

"Gaarrgh!"

And suddenly, she was surrounded. Everyone. They were all zombies. Rahim, Mert, the other boxers. Everyone had been turned.

The day Harran fell, everything changed forever. It happened right outside her small gym.

No. Wait! That was supposed to be three years later. And it was a slow build over the weeks, not a quick infestation in just a couple of seconds! But it didn't matter, Jack was already booking for the double doors. She dodged left and right from the swinging arms and the snarling teeth. Run. Run!

They wanted her dead. They wanted her to join them. Everyone was gone. And Jade was zooming close behind, her fingers grasping at the tips of Jack's hair.

Jack had to get out. But there was no escape from the virus. It was already inside her.

 _Run! RUN!_

She had to at least try. Giving up was never a quote written in her book. With one desperate push in her sprint, Jack shoved the door opens and was hit by the bright light.

And out into the whiteness, stood the man in the jacket she saw earlier - his back to her. She had gradually come to a stop. Because all the scary stuff behind her just stopped in an instant. She didn't even feel their presence anymore.

"What-"

Before she could even say the question, the man slowly wheeled around with a vocal _click, click, click_.

 _Click._

The face of the Hunter glared back at her.

"RAARGH!"

All she saw was the flash of the canines coming at her.

* * *

"Gaaph!" Jack bolted up. Breathing heavily. Sweating profusely. She gave a quick, hard look around - no, she was in the trailer. In Scanderoon. Not at Mert's gym. Not at the Outskirts. Not in the past.

She swallowed and slumped back on her sleeping bag. Breathe in. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4, with her fingers counting down. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. Rinse and repeat. Again and again until finally, she calmed down and wiped away the sweat beads from her temple.

Geezus...it's been a while since she had such a dream. Or a trip into memory lane where the train derailed into Nightmare Ville. That was most definitely not how the memory went. Was it because she had gotten too many blows to the head that her memories were jumbled again? It certainly felt like it. And Jade, dead? That was stupid! Champ was fine and dandy the last time she heard from her. She was all right.

If she wasn't…

...Rahim would never let it go. Jack had spent enough time knowing that the two kids were inseparable, the only family they had left was each other.

"Enough. Don't think too much about it. Jade's fine," she said to herself. "You'll see them at the Tower." Jack breathed deeply and tried to convince herself again. "Yeah. You'll see them soon. Now get your arse up and back to work. _"_

She pushed herself up. Then felt every part of her body with needles. Oh fuck. Why the bloody hell did she feel like a car rammed right into her-

Oh. Right. She went one-on-one with a Special.

Again, Jack tried forcing herself up and walk the agony off her joints. The recent bites were still pretty bad that she had to rebandaged them before covering them up with her sleeves. No one should see the kind of night she had - they'd worry too much.

"Arrrrgh... I hate mornings." The sunlight was blinding once she was out the door, compelling her to wear back her shades. She should have been used to it by now. But no, her eyes just hated the sun.

It still informed her of one thing: it was a new day in the city of the dead. No smell of rich tea and a nice buttered toast, just the horrid reek of rotten flesh and smoke. For some people, the absence of normality would slowly grind them down. The need to change would rupture out of them to desperately get out of the outbreak and be free. For Jack, her years have taught her one thing: adaptation.

Sometimes, you can't always stay in one spot.

Another deep inhale of the morning air, and she choked from the rancid odor. Omph! The burning smell from last night was still strong - as a matter of fact, the corpse of a fried up Volatile next to the door was the source. Phew! She scurried away. The next person to use the safehouse could do clean-up duty, not her.

"Alright. I should get back home. Surely, Siv's got a lot of work to give to me for the day-"

 _Cla-clink!_

There was an odd sound that stopped her. Like many pieces knocking at each other. By her foot was a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Actually, the torn cloth looked mighty familiar to her.

Was it there last night before she jumped into the safehouse? Still, she tapped it again with her toe, waiting for some reaction. When nothing happened, she kneeled down and opened it up. To her surprise, it wasn't some horrendous organ or a small bomb.

"Now why is _this_ here?"

She picked up her phone - a bit more scratched than it should have been. Maybe it had fallen out of her bag during her life-and-death chase. But the question still warranted her asking: why was it here and wrapped up like a present? More importantly, there was the other content: craft parts, gauzes, _specific things_ a survivor needed. The gift hamper was too perfect - like someone had read her mind on what she needed for the bite marks. Someone had picked up her phone, looked at it and put it all together.

Someone else came to her safehouse.

So she scanned around for her unknown visitor. Who was maybe long gone by now.

Or was he still nearby?

How cunning, frankly rude and most of all, apprehensive. Was it a friend or a foe? Jack certainly knew she had left the Outskirts alone-

 _Beep!_

Her wariness lessened at the buzz of a call. She'd have to keep a mental note about her little night visitor. So Jack brushed off her rigidity and moved on to her comms with the usual flamboyant flair. "Mad Jack, here. How may I help-"

 _"JACK! Oh my god! Jack, you're still alive!_ " the young voice suddenly boomed into her eardrum. Someone else hollered just as hysterically loud as Bones himself on a normal day. Then the voice backed away from the mic on the other end. " _She's alive! I told you she was alright, you bastard!_ "

"Whoa, whoa!" What had the young teen rattled? "Siv, where's the fire? I haven't disappeared off the face of the map now, have I?"

" _I mean..._ " Jack could hear the dear girl's chair move, her head propping down to the radio station's table. Whatever happened, the runner must have thought the worst came to the invincible ex-kickboxer, to the point she was lost with words. " _Y-You - they told me - that zombie and the bag-_ "

"You're not making any sense here, princess. Start from the top. What happened?"

" _Geezus. Where do I even start?!_ " she groaned. Ok, it really was that bad, Jack thought. " _We thought you got killed by that Hunter last night._ "

"Of course not, silly. I was at the safehouse, remember-"

" _That's what we thought too. Then Fazil and Orhan came in around 3. They got this bag of stuff. And, and, they were stuff some of the guys here sent you for, right?!_ "

"I'm sorry. Who and who? And what bag?"

" _Just come back to the Junction!_ " the young girl howled with frustration. " _You'll see it for yourself._ "

The conversation dropped, more puzzling than ever. But Jack might as well obliged and go back to the Junction: actions spoke louder than words. Moreover, she had to show everyone that "Hey, I lived a day outside and I'm still here. So what are the tasks for today, hm?". Reassure Siv one more time that Jack was very much alive. The people of the Junction didn't and shouldn't need to hear the grim news of a newly-joined member's death. That would lower morale.

"Clocktower." That was one landmark Mahir told her to look out for, prompting her to take to the high grounds and search. Sure enough, Jack spotted the familiar tops of the Junction - north-east, seven streets away from the overpass. "And there's the Junction."

If she had taken a turn at the last street she was bolting through, she could have gone right back to the gates last night. Thankfully, the morning was...less hostile with the Biters. In no time flat, Jack was back in the safe zone of the Junction. The welcoming was, of course, slate and unnoticed - nobody wanted to be too attached for anyone who left the grounds. Which was understandable to Jack. She got a comment from the quartermaster and one or two people, saying they were actually surprised she had made it through the first night.

Please, this was no different than the Outskirts.

At least, there was one person who made Jack feel glad to be acknowledged that she was alive. That one teen rushing over to her at the front foyer, her green and black sneakers nearly shrieking the tiled floor.

"Jack!" the little princess uttered, rather grateful to see the brunette again. Then as sudden as her appearance was, her pace slowed down. The worried frown eventually transformed down to an angrier one once she was up close to Jack. "Don't do that to me again!"

"I haven't done anything and already, I'm outed as a criminal. What exactly did I do wrong?"

"No, nothing. It's just..." Siv recoiled in the spot, overstepping the line with her outburst. She exhumed out an apologetic sigh. "Sorry. I found out about it an hour ago. And you weren't picking up your comms."

"I was pretty out from last night's run, dearie." She thought more about it. "And that fistfight."

"Wait. What fistfight?" The little shock and awe crept back in the black-haired runner.

"Oh. Don't fret about it. I'm right here. Alive and well," Jack assured her again. "Alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Siv aggressively nodded. "Sure."

"Now. Tell me what happened. We'll sort this out and get right back to work. Still gotta finish up yesterday's list-"

"Uh, Jack? Yeah, someone finished your yesterday's list."

Jack hunched her eyebrows together, blinked a couple of times. The sunglasses had easily slipped down the bridge of her nose, revealing the wry, hazel eyes. She wasn't on the same page as Siv was. "What do you mean my yesterday's list is finished?"

"I thought you were being real crazy last night. You know, doing night errands."

Well, that would be a triumph she'd gladly take. But she fully knew well she did not go shopping last night. "I told you. I've been at the safehouse the whole night. Where did you get that idea?"

She was about to speak out but halted first, keeping control of the numerous incomprehensible bursts she would have given again. One breath in and out, and she started from the top like Jack had asked. "Last night, we had two runners outside. They split off from Beta team for a drop near the waterfront. They were supposed to go to a safehouse but...they got jumped by Alexander's men."

"Alexander?" she repeated.

"He's the prisoners' leader. Basically the one in charge over at the penitentiary by the docks."

"Are the runners alright?"

"Fazil-" Siv bit her lower lip. "Her leg was badly hurt but Doc should be finishing up the surgery by now. Orhan... He's-"

"Still recovering from last night," the brunette finished the sentence for her again, a clear indication that she knew exactly how Orhan was. Mentally.

"Not just the thugs... They also had a Hunter come by their safehouse."

Jack was stunned to hear that. Especially that she fully understood why the locals warned about the dangers of meeting a Hunter. "Now that is very unlucky." Poor boy's mind had to be frail.

"Maybe not entirely 'unlucky'." The worry was shortlived by the strangeness of that statement. Siv tried to find the right words again but she was failing at it, resorting in her saying, "You need to hear it from him."

Could Jack just get to the point though? But she obediently followed after the young runner to the sickbay. She had a peek through the open entrance, spotting Hadya tending to an injured woman on the cot. Fazil, she presumed. The two runners didn't go in because right outside the entrance was a boy taller than Siv. Older by the looks of it. And beyond terrified, sitting back and forth with arms around his legs. If Jack had to guess, he had been there since he arrived and Will took in his injured friend.

"Orhan?" Siv was cautious, almost afraid that one sudden move could startle the lad and give him a heart attack. Even her steps were small and quiet. "This is the newcomer I was talking to you about." But the lad didn't stir. So Siv wheeled back to Jack. "This is Orhan. He's from the B team."

Jack said nothing like Siv thought she would with her bright, sarcastic, dynamic personality being some help to the traumatised man. The ex-kickboxer was good at reading people and his expression was one she had often seen too many times. The eyes didn't look elsewhere but the floor and his fingers were nearly white from gripping so tightly. It wasn't so much of fear that the young boy was experiencing, after everything he witnessed last night.

It was guilt.

"Orhan," Siv tried worriedly again, with a slight shake on his shoulder. "Can you tell her what you saw?"

All of a sudden, Jack sat down on the floor beside Orhan. A surprise to Siv but she kept quiet from seeing Jack's body language. The bold stance she always kept reflected in the arms slouched on the knees and the stern shoulders. No witty one-liner out of her. Instead, Jack waited with eyes on Orhan as if keeping watch. To make sure that if he would lose it on the spot, Jack was right next to him to be his anchor.

Finally, the young adult noticed her. As if resurfacing out the dangerous waters.

With trembling lips, he started. "...W-We were ambushed… Men from the p-prison… T-They destroyed our safehouse. Wanted us dead… Then t-this Hunter jumped out of nowhere. K-Killed them."

There was no reaction out of Jack. She patiently took in every word. And he was compelled to continue.

"It...It gave me this bag of stuff. J-Just like that. F-Fazil managed to hurt it with the UV light. We ran back to the Junction…"

Again nothing from the woman in red. No joke, no words of comfort, anything like the other adults tried to give him. Trying to sugarcoat the terrors or encourage him that they were safe. He couldn't even see the expression she wore behind the shades and in some way, it helped. Jack attentively listened to the boy without a break in her silence. And the more quiet she was, the more he opened up.

He was almost ready to burst out crying.

"It's ok," Jack spoke softly. "Take your time."

And that was it. The first tears out of him in a long time. "...I...it's my fault. I left B-team to go after that drop... The prisoners got to it first and... I thought I could get back," he whimpered. "Fazil...she found out I left and followed me... Those men...they hurt her because of me. I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

A boy who wanted to be a hero. Jack had seen this many times.

"Orhan," Siv started. She wanted to say it wasn't his fault. But a shake of Jack's head silently informed her not to. Being told it wasn't anyone's fault wouldn't change the past. The young lad was back to shaking like a leaf, his grip even tighter than earlier.

He wouldn't listen to that excuse.

"It's scary." Jack's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Her patience chirped down the anguish bit by bit, freeing Orhan as he slowly raised his head back up again. "Being in a situation like that… And you've made it. You and Fazil. You're both alive. You're here."

A reminder, a reality, spoken to Orhan by a total stranger. He was here and alive. No one in the Junction was judging him for his wrong. He and Fazil weren't killed back at the safehouse last night. And he didn't need to keep the emotions in.

That was the truth.

"You did good, kid," Jack said. "You did good."

Orhan's slow nods were still shaking. But his head was again heavy from the big tears swelling up again. He sniffled out loud, fighting it but Jack's compassionate gaze told him to let it all out. No one would fault him for it. An older woman convinced him that. Another few minutes later, he seemed to settle down.

It was a small tab of disbelief from Siv. After everything Orhan had seen, a mind cracked under the pressure, she had thought the guy would have difficulty recollecting himself. In the two weeks, she had seen men and women break down. Losing it. Unable to stand back - even their feet had failed them. But that day, a woman outside their small community gave a hand to a runner without even lifting a finger - the same person everyone in the Junction said was notorious in the ring.

"Better?"

Orhan shakingly nodded - a bit of a lie but it was better than nothing.

"Alright." Jack then noticed Hadya by the door. "I think someone wants to see you right now."

His eyes perked wide open, turning to see Hadya first. Then at someone behind the pulled white curtains beside the cot. Orhan almost flew into the sickbay. He had the apologetic speech ready in his head to give but the moment he reached the bedside, his words came out broken and finally, silent when Fazil held him tight with a forgiving smile.

It was a rare, happy moment Siv saw in the sickbay. Two weeks of horror and nobody could get a break from it. It had become a common, grim courtesy to acknowledge someone was dead when they never returned. Nobody had the bother, the bravery or the determination to do more. Admittedly, Siv just didn't know what to do with those kinds of situations when she was dealing with her own mental issues. She turned back to the ex-kickboxer - a soft grin on her face, hands in pockets like thug style and a satisfied gaze at the reunion between the two runners.

She had always thought adults had all the solutions in the world. She had thought they didn't have the time to bother with kids' stuff before the outbreak. And looking at Jack prompted her to ask two questions.

"What are you? Some kind of therapist?"

It took Jack by surprise at first but she simply jeered. "Please. I'm not some miracle worker or a mind-reader. I can't even understand my own head."

"Really?" Siv found that sentence a bit odd. She couldn't put her finger why.

"Yup. Sometimes, everyone needs someone to listen to them. No good bottling emotions up," she explained. She then took off down the hallway - Fazil and Orhan should be left alone to catch up - and the young teenager followed. "Leads to too many dumb decisions if you don't get it off your chest."

"...Is that why you enjoy fighting?"

Jack hunched an eyebrow Sic. "So you're going to be a mind reader now?" Still, she obliged to continue. "I suppose I had a hard time in my youth... I had to take it out some way. A little fix to get through the day."

"Never peg you to have a troubled past."

"Not really troubled. Just trying to figure out who I was as a person. Everyone has to start their hands dirty," she recited her old manager's quote.

"Well...what you did back there...? Thanks. You really helped Orhan."

"He helped himself. I was simply being there for him."

It was an honest remark, a side Siv never thought the brunette to have. This was the same granny who tried to negotiate with GRE soldiers by holding a bomb and then tried to have a one-on-one with a Special. So that was why the gentle side she saw was almost unbelievable. _Almost_. Siv hadn't even told anyone all the details - they could have just shrugged it off for her own 'imagination'.

"Now. Back to the main topic." Jack had steered back to Siv, hands clapped together as she thought on her next sentence. With some difficulty. "...A zombie just gave them the stuff I was hired to find?"

Right, what Siv was trying to explain to her earlier. Even she found it far more implausible than the few loose screws in the brunette's head. "That's what both of them said. Even the supplies Doc asked you to get. We figured the bag was yours."

"That explains why you were being hysterical earlier."

"Can you blame me for thinking that the same zombie that killed those thugs attacked your safehouse and took off your stuff?"

"This day keeps getting better and better."

"Hey, they're not lying. They've been through a lot-"

"Wasn't implying they lied. I'm more concerned about this one zombie. Strange for it to have a bag of goods."

"Hah. Strange is right. I mean...that thing would have killed Fazil and Orhan and...it didn't do any of the sorts. Just gave them that bag and left them. That's the weirdest thing."

"You know..." Jack was lying down the cards in her head. How oddly neatly connected the pieces were that she couldn't dismiss it for just randomness. "They might not be the only ones who got a gift like that last night." She pulled out her phone. "Someone left me a small present at my doorstep last night. And it's not even my birthday."

The young black-haired teenager didn't share her stern analysis: she was more creeped out that she wrapped her arms together, feeling the chill down her spine. "They said it was something they've never seen before. You don't think it's that Hunter we saw at the church, right?"

A thought that Jack had a hard time believing. However, she didn't shrug it off. So she said honestly, "I don't know... There's been a lot of strange things happening since we met that zombie."

"So what? The thing has brain damage that it can't decide whether it wants to kill or something?"

"Ha!" The laugh came out unnaturally brash to the young runner but Jack didn't care. "Oh, sure. An infected can have personality disorders."

"Everyone's a bit on edge with this one. Even Mahir's telling everyone to be on high alert. Says it sounds unpredictable."

"Oh. I fully concur. Which is why I'm going to check this out."

Wait. Did she hear that right? No, that was a joke. "Hey, now. Stop kidding around, Jack. We don't need to be going after this one zombie."

"You don't," Jack explained before nearing close to Siv with a wide grin. " _I_ can."

"Ok, now you're talking out of your ass."

"I won't deny that sometimes, I get in trouble for that. But I do deliver my word all the way."

"You're serious?" The overconfidence she saw glowing actually clicked in Siv's head, making her eyes wide. "You're actually being serious." Oh god...this woman was going to get herself killed. "Jack. This isn't just a normal zombie. This is a _Hunter. A bloodthirsty apex predator_ that even gives the Volatiles a run for their money!"

"Sounds like the Punisher I fought in 2009," Jack cooed. "One hella' man that one was."

"Jack. This isn't _a human._ It almost killed you!"

"Yes. And I will admit, this is my first time dealing an infected like that and we don't have anything like this back in the Outskirts... But I'm still a Rav. It's our job to make sure it's infected-free for the folks back home. Same goes for the Junction."

"I..." Again, Siv was lost with words. It was just that difficult to convince an adult she knew wouldn't listen. The only difference between the ones that shut their ears off her was that this adult's goal was suicidal. "Do you even have a plan?"

"Always. And a back-up plan too." An easy response she had probably said a hundred times before. "Don't worry, little princess. I've got a secret weapon up my sleeve. I'll take care of this...gift-giving Hunter."

There was no budging out of the professional brawler. Another stubborn adult in front of Siv but this time, Siv didn't leave at the end of a one-sided argument, angry and frustrated that it wasn't going her way. Will did say the Wild Dog was one terrifying title but an ex-kickboxer going after a Hunter? The teenager couldn't help but worry a little.

"Fine." It was going to be the same in the end, regardless of how hard the young girl tried to stop her. "You're gonna need this."

Another gift Jack didn't expect to receive today but it was one Siv truly believed she would need: a rope ascender unhinged off from her own belt. The one she used to zoom across the ziplines fast.

"Does this make me part of the team now?" Jack joked kindly.

"Not part of the runner teams," Siv scoffed with a fold of her arms. "It's not as convenient as a grappling hook. But it'll get you away from the zombies faster. Noah the mechanic downstairs made them for us runners."

The inner works showed the mechanic's magnum opus indeed as Jack examined the ascender. The grip was good, easy slotable to hook onto a zipline and what seemed to be a power-winch looked just as powerful to bring a person's weight across fast without yanking the arm holding the ascender right off.

Definitely a tool she'd never leave home without.

"Much obliged."

"Just come to us in one piece, Granny… You're no good to us dead." That last part was a little harsh but no way did Siv want to be soft on the newcomer. She wasn't a sap! With that said, she took her leave. The day was still young and she had her own tasks to do rather than worrying about a Hunter on the loose.

"When are you ever gonna stop calling me Granny, little princess?" Jack asked, pretending to sound offended.

"When you quit calling me princess!" Siv hollered angrily from down the hall. That was enough to get the girl peeved, with clenched fists swinging fast at the side and soft curses sprouting from her mouth. It didn't boat well hearing Jack chuckle loudly behind her back. The damn granny liked to tease and _she hated it! All adults were the same!_

But Jack meant it out of goodwill. This place needed to keep up with its liveliness during these tough times - one teenager brooding over Jack's own safety would only sour the atmosphere up.

Now. Time to attend the other issue at hand. In the hall she was in, there was nobody to hear her speak out her thoughts and go over the clues she had picked up on.

"So someone's been doing my job… And it's a Hunter." She didn't know whether to feel pleased or offended. Or worried. Or puzzled.

But was it really the same Hunter? This was a killer with no rational thinking or remorse when she fought it. Suddenly, it grew a conscience and went gathering supplies. Even took down the thugs to save two runners?

It sounded both impossible and...a little possible. That kind of feeling one little key contradicted the whole pyramid and made it fumble down. Because Jack certainly remembered that one word the Hunter slipped out - that reflected some little glint of, well, humanity. As crazy as it sounded in her head.

The thing didn't say it vocally, of course. And a zombie savior in the city? Boy, if Bones were to hear all this, he'd say Jack was mad as a Hatter. Again.

Then he would think about it. And Jack thought along the same line the smart lad would go to. This creature obviously showed some sense of intelligence. It _knew_ how to perceive the differences in hostile men and defenseless civilians. Which was crazy. Laughable. And there was another matter that needed answers. How did he even learn about Jack's list?

Then she stopped herself and fished out her phone. A lot of this was lining up again too nicely. One coincidence can be tossed out as chance. Two and more, it's either planned or something changed into a pattern.

"Well, Beastly. Taking someone else's phone and giving it back," she said to herself, tapping the phone on her chin. How utterly intriguing - another important question she wanted answered was how on Earth did it know how to use it, but she ignored it. There was one more pressing matter she realized on the spot that she pulled down her armband, for a peek of the fresh bite mark the mongrel gave to her. "And you hadn't died from my secret weapon."

That little fact made her in awe, to the point she repeated that in her head, just to be sure she wasn't dreaming.

If this was the same Hunter she faced, it should have been dead after their first encounter. But if this was indeed the same monster running around, _alive_ , then there was a mystery afoot. Enough to warrant her to make one deduction.

"You might very well be the candidate we've been looking for..."

This Hunter had all the makings Bones required for his pet project: an infected that hasn't died. _This_ was exactly what the Ravs were seeking and frankly, Jack didn't think the discovery would come to her in a short time and right on her lap. But there had to be the tests to go through first - a one-time moment didn't mean they had their solution. Basic chemistry knowledge.

Curiosity was overtaken by addictive determination, the wolf-like grin curling sneakily on Jack's face. It was nice to know that her opponent didn't just keelhaul after the first match. And he had more surprises up his sleeves. Yes, it was lunatic to go after a Special. But she was the retrieval specialist after all.

Like Bones said to her over the line, you couldn't leave any stone unturned.

She chuckled with amusement. What a brilliant task to be given to herself. This was going to be fun.

"Time to track myself a Hunter."

* * *

A/N: 27/10/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. I would say that dialogue is not my strongest thing (at least I believe it myself) but I'm happy to have push further in this chapter, especially the interactions between the runners and Jack. I'm more for suspense and a bit of drama than humor or casualness. It's also fun to write Jack's past with Jade and Rahim and there will be more onwards through the chapters.

The ascender tool is one thing I thought of, originally was mentioned in later chapters but here was a good spot to put it. My "game design" aim is sorta like a partnership between Mutant Crane and Mad Jack, so of course, as crazy as it sounds, Jack would need as much of a leverage to keep up with a sentient Night Hunter. The ascender tool is a second tool besides the grappling hook to speed your way faster like in Bioshock: Infinite and Tomb Raider, the reboot series.

Just as I said that Mad Jack's skillset is designed in the works to be able to keep up with Crane, Crane's own skillset will have to be tweaked down - that it can't be exactly the same as a pure Night Hunter's skill tree. Because that would make the game broken. Additionally, I have some ideas down the line that would make his skill tree more interesting: in a way of a stealth runner that comes from the back while Jack is a brawler (fortitude over speed) that goes in from the front and taking the eyes on her, not on Crane when he attacks. That's the kind of COOP combat I see for them.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this revamped chapter and please review, give me your constructive criticism too. And ideally, the next chapter may become mostly a new one for you to look forward too!


	6. FIVE: ALL EYES

Chapter Summary

 **\- THE WOMAN IN RED**

 _I bit her… I gave her the Harran virus. It's only a moment of time before she becomes a monster like me and hurt other people… I have to find her before it's too late. - Kyle_

* * *

 **FIVE: ALL EYES**

* * *

It was a small gasp when Crane woke up.

His lungs pounded heavily like he had risen back off from underwater, holding his breath for far too long. A disgusting taste of bile on the tastebuds even cemented him to bolt off the hard metal floor. Geezus! You didn't kill an innocent person, Kyle!

But the end of the dream rooted itself deep into his gray matter. He jumped onto that woman like an animal and ripped out her throat-

 _ **Stop!**_

Again, his empty stomach revolted. Crane swallowed and tried to keep it in. Gain control. He did no such thing.

Then he remembered again. The uncomfortably grinding feeling of...claws on his face when he wiped off the sweat from his forehead. It was a sudden jolt, like an infected was with Kyle in the same space but no. Disappointedly, no.

It was his body. _This_ body. He was still the zombified Kyle Crane from yesterday.

It wasn't a dream. How he really wished it was.

Once the reality sunk in again, he observed the small space he slept in - realizing he was in the back of the ambulance, which then reminded him of one important thing.

Right. Stab wound.

His body must have taken a toll for him to lose consciousness before the wound could have been patched up. But he patted down on his gruesome abdomen and couldn't find the hole. There was never a hole to begin with - only what was a web of black pulsating veins on the spot the shiv had been driven in.

" _Yeah..._ " he groaned mentally. Waking up to find the wound closed up without stitches didn't settle well for Crane. At all. " _Totally not creepy._ "

But at least he survived the night.

And that thought kicked him in the shin - his new undead life wouldn't be ending soon. But he couldn't take the more drastic measure to shorten it. Not when his feet were grounded and he still had one responsibility to do.

He was here to stay for another day.

" _Maybe that lady had better sleep than me…_ " he thought. Because he felt awful. Sluggish. His body felt incredibly heavier compared to last night where he was as light as a feather. Crane mentally had to fight his own sleep deprivation. In his half-sleep state, he dragged himself over to the doors-

Suddenly, his right claw felt a horrid burn.

"Garmph!" Crane scrambled far into the back of the van, the panicked impact nearly shaking inventory off its shelves. Something also hit him on the head. "Ow."

The feeling wasn't as aggravating as the UV lights last night but it certainly felt similar. Like putting a palm on a hot stove.

" _Right. Sunlight._ " Great. Terrific. Wonderful. Any more shit fate liked to give him? " _This keeps getting better and better._ "

Now, he understood why some infected never came out during the day. A Volatile could easily fry up like an egg on the sidewalk by staying out for too long.

 _So go back to sleep._

Crane shook his head furiously with a vocal growl, even attempted a slap to his face. " _C'mon. Stay awake._ "

He had a goal, remember? That woman he bit was a time bomb - anyone who had the pathogen would wind up transformed from either in hours or days. And that was if she hadn't taken Antizin.

Moreover, if the lady was to go to a populated place… That was a horrible thought.

Crane took his stance, his determination powering him from going back to slumber. He could stay in the van all day or he could leave and bite down on the pain.

It was now or never.

 _CLANK!_

The ambulance's back doors burst open and the Hunter was off. The blistering was everywhere on his skin - enough to be considered as the worse sunburn he had ever felt. With whatever raggy clothes he had on his back, Crane tried to pull his collar and some folds over, as a desperate attempt for some personal cover. It was all in vain but he kept on running, getting off the overpass and diving into the shade underneath it. Grass beneath his skin didn't help relieve the burn.

" _God…_ " He bit down with muttered groans to combat against the pain. This time, though, it was gone as quickly as it came.

Crane pushed himself up but with a struggle. Onwards were windows of sunlight streaming down, creaking through any gap the sun could find around and through. It was a long and difficult path back to the construction site with what limited shade he could see and find. Which would have been a three-minute walk for a human on a clear, less-hostile day.

Ok, fate found another thing to shit on Crane.

A heavy sigh came out of his mouth. The things he did for people…

He pressed on, against the power of daylight. No matter how many times he got snips of a burn or the voice in his head telling him to sleep, Crane pushed forward.

Despite the slight heaviness logged into him, he was just as agile as...well, a normal runner. He didn't have the insane velocity from last night - neither could he go faster on four in the day. Frankly, he didn't want to, feeling more like being degraded to an animal than...whatever he was now. Sure, Crane could use the weird...tendrils coming out of his hands like Spiderman. But that would mean smoking himself on the skyscrapers like beef jerky.

There was another disadvantage he immediately noticed once he stepped out of the ambulance: his vision was shit in the day.

It was an exaggeration. He could see his world decent but there were absolutely no orange skeletons he could see. It was uncannily disappointing for Crane when he arrived outside the construction site safehouse - not a sign of one specific skeleton inside the trailer. Only the evidence that someone had left: the pushed Volatile corpse and the footprints heading to the gate.

" _Great. Now, where did she go?_ " Crane snapped irritably.

The nearest place she could have gone was that Junction location. And he was off again under the shadows of the abandoned buildings.

 _Please don't turn into a Volatile inside that warehouse._ "

Continuing on made Crane study his own eyesight again. He was wrong about it being shitter - more like the perspective was warped thanks to the sun. It couldn't make its decision on what he should be seeing. He saw colors in one way but as for the 'orange skeletons'…

Well, he couldn't figure out how to describe them but he tried anyway. Their orange glow wasn't as vibrant as they were last night: just faint blurred-out shapes behind walls. Now and then, he would spot those faint orange shapes moving on two in the distance.

However, if he was a little closer, his eyes could make out what those shapes were. For one example, a pack of runners off near the west end he spotted, high on the roofs and a mile away. Normal human beings rushing to find supplies: their features, clothes, everything about them clearer. The only thing obvious was the faint orange glow inside in each of them.

Pulsating.

Like a heartbeat.

It gave Crane the creeps. He'd prefer the skeletons over this daylight vision. It helped disconnect the matter, as harsh as it sounded in his head.

Soon, he found the Junction at the end of the uphill street. Of course, he didn't walk in. That would be suicidal. The safest way was taking to a vantage point at an unfinished building across the street. Away from people who could shoot him down on sight.

The oddest thing he realized stepping into the skeleton structure of a silicone factory was the feeling. Crane had been there before. Even the sheltered perch at the topmost of the scaffolding looked recognizable as he glanced at the overview of the Junction.

He had done this _watching_ too. Waiting for something. He would be lying to himself if he pretended it didn't irk him. Maybe this was a spot that his other self had used - to hunt. How often did he use this spot back as a feral monster?

Crane pushed the queasy thought away, grimacing to his next problem. He did see the blotchy shapes inside the Junction. But which one was the woman?

" _This is going to be a needle in a haystack._ " For all he knew, the red-hooded woman might have gone elsewhere instead of the main safe haven. Maybe she was already gone-

 _Klunk!_

The rooftop door at the Junction opened. And out of it came the familiar red hooded jacket.

Crane had been holding his breath the entire time. The moment he saw no signs of transformation, he let it out with relief. The woman must have gotten Antizin at this place just in time. Thank god.

Maybe she had a chance. She could be luckier than he was. That thought alone lightened the weight off his shoulders a little.

 _Beep!_

"Bones, do you read?"

" _Loud and clear, Jack_." Crane heard the radio talk again. This time, a younger male voice. Still not used to his own heightened hearing, he thought. " _How's your first day in Scanderoon?_ "

The woman scoffed. "Riveting. Escaping death, getting a few close calls. It's all good."

The sarcasm took the cheerfulness right out of the other line, replaced by thick anxiety in one sentence. " _What happened?_ "

"Nothing I couldn't handle, mate."

" _Seriously?_ " Crane mumbled to himself. _Let's go down the list then_. There were the three Volatiles chasing after her, every common infected stirred up in the dead of night and what else? Oh, right. _Him_ nearly trying to kill her!

Even her friend was on the same page as him. " _It doesn't_ **_sound_ ** _like it's_ _nothing. What's your PACT? What's the reading-_ "

"The PACT reads green," she stated. "Had another run-in with that ' _Day'_ Hunter I told you yesterday."

" _You're doing a terrible job of convincing me you're alright._ "

"Then how about a good job at convincing you I found something worth your while. That Hunter? It didn't die from the secret weapon."

There was a pause of digesting those words. Crane couldn't understand the significance behind them but the woman's friend had an inflated reaction - like it was news he had been waiting for.

" _Wait. It didn't die?"_

"Yup."

" _It lived? It actually didn't foam from the mouth and drop dead?_ "

"I'm telling the truth, Bones."

The short mumbles were incomprehensible on the other end, with a few laughs in between. It was odd to Crane - why would anyone be happy that a Special wasn't dead?

The disbelief was still verbally present, however. " _Wait. So… You tested the poison on him?_ "

"Yes," she replied abruptly. Unsure why the obviousness hadn't hit him yet.

" _Which means you went up close to it._ "

"Of course."

" _And he bit you or you bit him?_ "

That was when she hesitated. "I mean… I was dealing with a Special." She shrugged.

" _Gaaargh._ " The mic spiked from a sudden bump on the other side of the line. Just like that, the amazement was short-lived. " _Please tell me you didn't use your fists against this thing._ "

It was an odd reaction Crane didn't expect. Was her caller detached? She was bitten - **_bitten!_ ** \- that should warrant for emergency! Her friend should be pointing that fact out! But it was easily brushed away like that, especially by the woman in red.

"Nooo, of course not," she sang. "I did hit him with a piece of plywood."

" _Jack. Tell me what the color on your PACT is, right now!_ "

"I told you. It's green. I'm fine," she exclaimed, pointing at something on her wrist.

" _It doesn't matter. You tried to go against a Special infected. Which, might I add, is something we've never seen before in the Outskirts. Alone. Without tools or equipment. And may I remind you that you're not the same Wild Dog as you were three years ago?!_ "

Another person from the Outskirts. Crane tagged that information in the lines and filed it away in his mental cabinet - how many survivors were still alive in that location?

"Just, just listen for a second. The most important thing right now is that I found you a candidate," the woman stated urgently. That settled the guy down. To a degree. "This Special didn't die."

The sound of a few aggressive tapping on the table - Crane could imagine that whoever was on the other line was slowly losing his patience, disliking the fact that the woman tried to change the subject. But with a sigh, the young man continued. " _Just because he bit you once doesn't mean he built an immunity against it._ "

Immunity?

"Actually, he bit me twice. So I bit him back twice."

" _What-"_ There was a struggle with words, ending with a _"grrrah._ " The radio guy was doing his best to keep his frustration in. " _Then he should be dead!_ "

"I know," she uttered. "That's what I thought."

Hold it. Back up a sentence. They knew something he wasn't getting any info on. What did they mean by dead, Crane wondered.

What on Earth did he stumble on? Secret weapon, hunting Specials, immunity? Moreover, this 'weapon' they had sounded fatal to infected. The only thing he could think was, well, Bolter poison.

Among the infected types Crane had seen through the weeks in Harran, one stood out from the rest. Not because it was a zombie - it didn't even have the courage to stick around, hence the name Bolter. But besides their cowardliness and their grouping with Volatiles, it was the subject of a few odd jobs he took. Nothing impressive enough for a lead, other than that its own tissue being potent that with the right ingredients, could become a deadly poison.

That wasn't a trade secret. And what did it have to do with biting the lady?

" _Ok. Fine. He lived,_ " the voice on the line muttered, the spite still lingering. " _Still can't believe you tried to fight a Special on your own._ "

"Freakoid didn't give me a choice, Bones. And this isn't a normal Special. There's something strange about this one."

" _Strange how?_ "

"Remember you were saying about those scaredy-cats having some sort of recognition back home? This Special has that too. Damn mongrel knew a bit of Judo."

Uh oh, Crane thought. They weren't talking about _him_ , right?

" _Pft. Judo._ " the radio guy snorted. " _That's funny, I'll give you that-_ " But he stopped himself. " _You're not joking._ "

The woman had the obvious tight-lipped frown on her face. "I've fought enough opponents in my career to know what kind of fighting style I'm dealing with."

" _I really don't like the sound of some Special zombie knowing kung-fu._ "

"That's not all. Two runners were ambushed by thugs last night and a Special went and killed the blokes. Bones, it didn't attack the runners. It only killed the thugs."

Yup. They were talking about him. Mutant Kyle. His last night's vendetta was coming to bite him in the ass.

" _And this is the same one?_ "

"Sounds like it. It also decided to play Santa Claus last night and gave those runners a bag of supplies. The supplies _I_ was supposed to get for the Junction. Even left me a gift right at my doorstep."

" _Hey, I was doing you a favor,_ " Crane grumbled.

" _Ok. That's way more comprehension thinking than it should have. What is this thing?_ " her friend asked worriedly.

"You tell me. He's full of surprises."

" _Exactly how many more surprises_ **_does_ ** _he have?_ " he whined on the other end.

"Well," the woman's voice trailed off. She just couldn't find the right words. Crane couldn't read her mind either.

Honestly, Jack had no idea what just happened back at the church. It'd be a lot easier to say that infected had a lot of oomph in him, uncanny when the undead didn't have the mentality for tactical attacks like animals or humans.

It was also the fact it 'talked' that made her wary. And she wasn't even sure if it came from its mouth.

"Can infected..." The hooded woman twirled her hand in circles. "Communicate with one another?"

" _Communicate?_ " the radio guy asked, not expecting an answer. " _...Now that I think of it, we've never established if they had some kind of vocal connection. I mean, they just groan. Though, the Specials seem to show a form of dominance to order the lackeys around._ "

Vocal. Crane did find that suggestion...well, a little amusing but the context showed him one thing. These two weren't _normal_ civilians.

This whole discussion wasn't just simple chatter, this was almost the talk of professionals. Crane could only guess from the voice on the line - someone else who may have studied the infected since the outbreak started, like Zere and Camden. But the radio guy's voice sounded younger, say, in his twenties. Inexperienced. Learning.

However, the woman was another matter to Kyle. She wasn't a random person. She was observant. She could follow the subject to the point and pry out the questions needed to be asked.

She knew what information to look for.

"Bones. Some of those Specials spit out gunk and that attracts the 'common folk' to it like flies to honey."

" _Ok, so they have a good scent of smell. We don't know if they have any means of auditory signals to 'communicate'. Why do you ask?_ "

Nothing out of the woman in red. She was stiff as a tree. Crane could vaguely see the deepening confusion in her face - something really bothered her but she wasn't sure how to explain it in layman's terms.

" _Jack?_ "

She simply shook her head, making a decision herself. "You know what? Forget it. I'm not even sure what I heard."

" _Uh...sure,_ " her friend compelled, dropping it completely and moving on to the next issue of the talk. " _It's all a lot to take in but… If he really survived, then yeah..._ _He's a candidate._ "

Crane didn't like the word candidate - worse, they were putting that title on _him_. Like a discovery of a new animal species and that didn't sound good to him. There was too little for him to go by except more questions. Why did that person on the radio sound relieved? What was this pet project about? And why a Special?

This was sounding like Zere's experiment Kyle helped with.

"A rather pompous but fascinating candidate. And here, I thought this assignment of yours would be a little boring with only your science talk."

" _So what now?_ "

"What else? I'm going to find and retrieve Freakoid."

There was so much whimsical certainty, so much cocky trust in her own words...that it sounded a load of bull to Crane! As supernaturally excellent as his inhuman hearing was, he swore he needed an ear check.

And he wasn't alone on this too.

" _Wha - hold on there, Jack! You can't go catching this thing on your own!_ "

"I don't see a problem," she rebuffed with a cheeky smirk. "It's just a simple catch and we'll be one step closer to your research being right."

" _I think you're banking a bit too much on this succeeding. They're just theories-_ "

"Theories we only have right now. _You_ said something was up with this virus. _You_ pointed out the rapid mutation and diversity in the infected. Even us survivors. And this Hunter is one prime example that supports them."

There were some merit between the lines. Or maybe this woman was talking nonsense. But she was right - Crane himself couldn't deny it with his own body and mind being evidence.

" _Yeah, but-_ "

"No 'buts'. Give yourself more confidence. The folks at the Tower would appreciate everything in this project."

" _The Tower?_ " Another hit on the brakes. Back up again on that little detail! How did they know about _the Tower?_

" _You don't even have the syringes,_ " the radio guy explained loudly and bluntly. " _You can't get a blood sample without them._ "

Swiftly, Crane's dubiety was replaced by sheer urgency and self-dread. It was an instant change like a snap of the finger.

" _Oh, hell, no. You are not sticking needles into me,_ " he snapped. If they knew he was listening in on them, they'd be regretting everything about going after him.

"That isn't going to stop me," the woman boosted. "I just need to find him, make sure he's incapacitated, find Lenny's boat too and be back home before sunset."

" _Are you literally going to bring this monster back to_ **_my lab?!_** "

" _Oh, great,_ " Crane thought. " _This guy has a lab._ "

"It's not a solid plan. And hey, a zombie that can think more than just eating people? I'd say that's something to look into," she pointed and tried to sell the idea even further with the next lines. "Think of it this way. It'll be like a school trip to the zoo for you Grads. New type, never been seen before. All that."

" _If he's sedated!_ " the radio guy boomed. " _HQ hasn't even recovered from last week and you want to bring a dangerous and possibly intellectual infected into our place! Do you hear yourself?!_ "

"Bones, you know how I operate. If a plan's good, it's worth trying. But I'm all ears for options," she offered calmly.

" _I…_ " The young man on the other end really struggled this time. He was ramming his own brain to think of another way, anything. Quite frankly, Crane hoped that he would suggest giving up on 'the special Special', aka Kyle himself, and call it a day. The radio guy did in fact give up, the sound of something moving on the desk with one soft thud. " _Everyone is going to hate you for this._ "

"On the contrary, I think half of them will like my idea."

" _I don't,_ " Crane huffed. What was he going to do now? Instead of watching over the lady with the expectation of her changing, it turned out that Crane has become the target of some group's pursuit for a fool's experimental errand!

When did the tables get turned around for him?!

"I managed to tag our candidate by the way. Geyong's finished with her code, right?"

" _She said there were a few bugs she hadn't kicked out yet._ "

"I just need Freakoid's pinpoint. I'm also gonna need Lenny on this one too." Two more names. How big and knit-tightened was this group, Crane wondered.

" _Yeah. Not gonna call him here._ "

"And why now?" she asked inquisitively.

" _Uh, hello? You stole his boat? He's still fuming since yesterday. And I'm not gonna be the one who talks to him-_ "

 _BAM!_

Wow. The harsh loud noise of something shutting in the background certainly hurt her right ear.

" _Hey! What are you doing, you old cock-?!_ " Something fell in the background, giving a loud bang and a crack. The sound of a chair knocked over.

Then came the outburst.

" ** _You bloody fucking woman! You took Caroline!_** "

The loud holler gave an awful, sharp hurting to the eardrums, forcing the woman in red to visibly yank the earpiece out from her canal. The accent wasn't native but much heavier than the woman's. Scottish or Irish? Crane wasn't sure - all United Kingdom accents sounded the same to him.

With a massage to the ear, she was daring enough to put the device back in.

"Good to hear from you too, Lenny," she greeted chippily. "And taking is such a strong word. I'm just borrowing it."

" _When you get back here, I'm gonna strangle you and leave your corpse out for the walkers!_ **_Now bring her back!_** "

"And I will. As soon as I'm finished with Bones' pet project."

" _What-?! You-!_ " It was clear that the older man wanted to strangle the nearest thing he could reach. That target was nearby - the younger man Crane had heard, yelling, " _Hey! Stop!_ " while the Lenny guy screamed heatedly, " _You tell her to bring Caroline back!_ "

"Enough horsing around, you two. I'm burning daylight here."

Another loud thud and the accent-sounding man came back to the mic. " _I should be the one doing this but oh, did you take that away from me! And_ **_my boat_** _!_ "

"We both know you can't do this, Lenny. Not with your arm like how it is."

" _I told you again, I have it under control!_ " he spat.

"Yes. And look how that last week's trapping went. You nearly got crushed by a Demolisher and fifty ton of concrete."

There was so much context in those sentences Crane wanted to ask but the question would only fall on deaf ears. Just who were these people?

" _You don't get to make that call! You need an expert for this stupid hooligan project of that bone fetish freak!_ "

" _Hey!_ " the young voice hollered somewhere in the back. " _It's not a bone fetish! Osteology is a study, you crazy gunman!_ "

"Boys, boys." Out of the discussion of three, only the cool-headed woman was the one bringing back order to the court. "All of us have a stake in this. And must I remind you that Asem can hear you from her ivory watchtower?"

That stopped the fight - with the exception of some grumbles here and there.

"Good. Lenny, Scanderoon isn't like the Outskirts. The new types that would have killed you in minutes. I'm the best the Ravs got for this job. So if you hate the idea, then you'll have to run it up with our leader."

There was another loud, obvious groan on the other end, ending with some UK slang word Crane couldn't make out.

"How about a compromise. I'm in need your tracking advice. You help me with the ropes, I'll give you the credits. And your boat back. Deal?"

" _...Aye, you bloody wretch and a half. Keep your damn credits. All I want is my lass back. You better bring her in one piece, Brecken. Or I'm gutting you open_ ," the older man grunted.

" _Brecken?_ " Crane repeated. He heard that right.

No, no, he told himself. It could be a common surname, anyone could have it. Brecken, the very man who led the Tower back in Harran, never mentioned anything about someone else sharing the same name - Brecken never talked about family.

It had to be a coincidence, right?

It wasn't so much he had a hard time believing. It was because he didn't want any name. Hearing a name or even acknowledging it was going to make him feel...responsible. The more attached he was to another person, the more guilt he felt when he would take their life. Indirectly or not. That has been why he pushed away the names he's been hearing in the radio talk. Just label them as radio guy, Scottish guy and woman in red.

Don't get attached. Ok? No first name basis.

"I promise, I promise," the lady exclaimed cockily, ending kindly with a question. "Now will you help me?"

It was a convincing plea that got the older voice to scoff. " _What's the rundown on this mark?_ "

The lady's grin was wider than before. Good, her friend was on the same boat.

"Locals call it a Night Hunter. Hits harder than a Goon's swing, faster than a Volatile and intelligent enough to know the risks. Regular traps or equipment aren't going to work on it."

" _Hah. This bloke is still an infected. He's going to make mistakes_."

" _Try me,_ " Crane gruffed from his vantage point.

"I would agree with you there. But we're gonna have to treat this with more discretion, Lenny."

There were some added grumbling in the background, the sound of someone pushing a chair back to the radio station. " _I'm not over that, you fucking lunatic!_ "

" _You're thick-skinned. Shrug it off._ "

"Boys," the woman interrupted, keeping order in place despite being in another city. "I know you two don't play well together. But I need you to hold it for just today."

" _Fine. You two click like two peas in a rotten pod._ " A loud slam of the keyboard and aggressive typing.

"Now I don't even know whether to find that flattering or insulting," Jack jested.

" _Insulting_ ," Lenny baulked easily. " _I want my boat back._ "

She rolled her eyes - she couldn't please anyone today.

" _Ok. HEADS app should be up and running in your phone,_ " the radio guy said.

"You Grads seriously need to think of better names."

" _I agree,_ " the Scottish man added.

" _Just click on it._ "

The woman in red did as she was told: her phone withdrawn out like a revolver pulled in a Wild West movie. The same phone Crane had found and thrown right back in the trailer safehouse. "Armed and ready."

" _So where is this blasted Hunter-?_ " A few more background noises. As if the two men were fighting over the keyboard.

 _Smack!_ " _Stop! Don't go breaking her code._ " A sigh exhumed. " _You can also use this app to track down anything besides tagged Specials. Places, safehouses, even anything. Courtesy of Ministry of Defense's internet access. And they don't even know it._ "

"A hacker's favorite toy," the woman droned.

" _And now ours to play with. We can even be your bird's eyes on our end. Give you the heads-up before the problem comes to you._ "

"Aw. But I like being surprised."

" _Then we can shut it off,_ " the Scottish guy remarked.

" _No, we won't,_ " his companion next door uttered. " _Do you remember how terrible it was? A month without any signal?!_ "

" _You kids needed the fresh air, get you off your computers and focus on the walker problem._ "

"Ahem," the woman interrupted. No cut into her stern patience but she did want the ball rolling. "Our candidate?"

" _On it, on it._ "

"This app is in real-time, right? I'm not going to be surprised by a walker with a five-minute delay or anything?"

" _I did say she hasn't fixed all the bugs yet._ " The typing sounds was lighter, strings and code coming to a close. " _And here's where your Hunter is._ "

 _Beep!_

The woman in red jerked her head back - the results immediately smacked her smirk right off her face. She was not pleased with it at all, Crane could tell. Too bad his eyes couldn't see what those results were. He simply observed her turn around slowly, the phone being like a compass in her hand.

Then she looked straight at the silicone factory.

No. Wait a second. She was looking straight at _him!_

Now it was Crane's turn to be dreadfully surprised. Golden eyes wide.

" _Hang on._ " The radio guy took the words right out of his mouth before he could even say it. " _Isn't that across from where you are?_ "

The lady grimaced with a tired sigh. "How lovely. Beastly doesn't know when to quit."

Ok, that definitely sold it for Crane. They were 100% after him. Most importantly, he was being tracked! When did she have the time to put a bug on him?

" _When you said this thing was intelligent, I didn't think he'd be that smart to follow you,_ " the older guy exclaimed.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit!_

Crane patted himself down. Where was **_the tracker?!_ **

" _You should take this one slow, Brecken. He's gonna use close corners to his advantage. Don't give him enough distance to jump on ya._ "

The woman absorbed the information as she took a slow stroll to the edge of the Junction's roofs. At Crane's direction. The first thought he had, there was no way she could make it across the twenty-metre gap. The problem: he wasn't dealing with normal folks.

She was coming for him one way or another.

Time to go, Kyle!

" _Uh, Jack. He's running away!_ "

Crane bolted as fast as a Bolter could in the day. He was not going to give these people the luxury!

Besides! She was a street across. She'd never catch up-

"On it!"

Something metal shrieked irritably but it sounded like he had heard it before. A quick glance over the shoulder and he could have sworn he saw an orange glow speeding along the floor above him.

Right. Grappling hook. She had to have one at her disposal!

" _This really can't get any better!_ " Crane hollered.

* * *

" _He's heading west!_ "

" _You can cut him off at the right block._ "

Never in Crane's entire career - wait, rephrase that - his entire _previous life_ had he ever been the one on the other end of the spectrum. He had chased after people for a reason as a human, a person. The end result of those pursuits was either ending with a calm non-violent resort or blood on his hands.

The only times he had been pursued was when night rolled over. Being targeted by Volatiles and chased all the way to the safehouses. He remembered the tunnels at Rais' tower. And that nest when he was searching for an exit to the Old Town.

Now he, an infected with his brain intact, was being hunted down by a human - the woman he was supposed to kill. A ridiculous oxymoron he had ever heard!

What made this all worse were the _bird's_ _eyes_ she had guiding her to him.

They could keep this up for as long as the tracker stayed on him. If it wasn't for his hearing, the lady might have gotten the advantage on him. However, some things also played a part in his disadvantage: the sunlight, his battling lethargy and his dullened vision.

Crane had glanced back a few times, spotting the orange glow. She wasn't as fast as the best runner at the Tower but she certainly knew how to catch up without wasting too much on speed. Leaping over obstacles that should have slowed her down, taking the shortest route to him - she had the stamina and she didn't spend it freely, alright!

 _Call it quits, lady!_ He wanted to shout that at her. But Crane kept going, ducking out from a closed-down library and into a street of residential flats.

" _What is going on? It's like he knows how to shake you off._ "

" _Brecken, he sees infrared just like any other infected. You gotta catch him when he's not looking._ "

"I got this!"

" _He can still get an opening if you're not careful_ _!_ "

"I got **_this!_** "

It came from above and coming down was a blur of red ready. Like a wrestler diving in for the final slam.

Freakoid sidestepped. A lone Biter then wandered into his spot.

"YOU FUCKING TWAT-!"

The brunette and the empty-headed infected went down, boards breaking beneath them. The only grace was the Biter being her cushion for the fall at the cost of its spine breaking. Dead again, from impact on the ground floor.

" _Maybe we shouldn't go after this Hunter._ "

" _No. Keep going. You got him on the run._ "

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Lenny?!" Jack snapped at the deadpan tone, rising back on her feet quickly with fists ready. Decomposing nailless fingers and a low, ghastly groan with yellow teeth bare out staggered towards her. A good head twist took the zombie out before it could grab her.

" _Whose fault was it to steal my boat,_ _Síle_ _?_ "

"Let it go, you bloody sap!" Back to a sprint before the other by-passers lunged after her.

That setback delayed the brunette by four minutes - and it bought Crane four more minutes. He was passed three blocks already, entering a parking lot. A short moment of respite he needed to search through every nook he could find on his rags.

" _Where_ **_the fuck_ ** _is this tracker?!_ " he hissed. Was it somewhere he couldn't see on himself? Something he ate?!

There were little options Kyle could think of - one of them he certainly wasn't going to do for the sake of his leftover _dignity_ \- and in the short amount of time, he concluded to just endure this pursuit until that lady gave up! Even if it took _the whole day!_

It didn't help that the neighborhood thralls didn't like his company in every building he plunged in and out. Even inside the parking lot on every level, they sleepily snarl at Crane to leave, their ferocity dulled down by daytime. Furthermore, they were certainly more irritated on the upper floors because of more unwanted party Crane only acknowledged upon reaching them.

Three orange glows on the tenth floor. The pulses beating slow. Their pace calm, stationary.

More humans. No indication if friend or enemy from first vision alone. But something in his gut warned him not to trust them - and not the voice inside his head.

"Perimeter One. We've located another refugee location down at the Coast. The Orphanage. That's three so far."

" _Understood. Any sign of Umit Solak?_ "

"That voice," Crane muffled. The radio talk almost struck an old nerve in him.

"No, ma'am. They won't let anyone in. Want us to barge in and locate the guy?"

Carefully, ever so quietly, the Hunter peeked around the corner. He knew in his gut what he was dealing with but it was more for his own confirmation.

In one part of the carpark, blocking the door to the stairs, was one little setup tucked with ammo crates, neatly-stacked weapons and mobile surveillance tools. Not packed in a way that they were staying for the long run but only for a few hours. There had been a cleanup near three parked cars - the fresh undead bodies piled aside, the blood smears being a clue of where they previously stood at.

The kicker of the situation were the three residents at that setup. Tough and trained. Heavily armed and heavily dangerous. Crane knew these men and their affiliation - he had been one of them before.

" _GRE._ "

Great. The asshole organization he worked for. The very same organization who sold him a story to find a file in saving lives when it was to cover their asses for what they've done. The real truth that _they_ made the Harran virus! GR- _fucking_ -E was responsible for everything!

And now they were in Scanderoon. Why?

Ok, dumb question now that Crane took a second to think on it. If they were in the city, that meant GRE have decided to take drastic measures after everything that happened in Harran. They did try to bomb Harran down once!

It also gave Crane a terrible dilemma, making him tighten his claws - the last time he heard about them, they were disbanded by the Ministry of Defense. Did that mean they have gone rogue now? But why the focus on another infected city? To try and clean up their reputation?

Whatever the reason was, it wasn't good. And Crane was willing to take them down - there wasn't _any_ obligation for his old employer!

" _Negative. There's enough red tape from Harran to put a noose over this organization. We can't be the enemy here._ "

Hearing the female voice struck on that nerve again, this time with the grounding of his teeth and the swelling of anger. He finally realized why that voice was so familiar.

" _Wait a minute… I know_ **_that voice_** ," he said distastefully. It was a bad rash coming back to him, reminding him of all the fucked-up orders Crane had to obey!

" _Continue on with mission. And eliminate anyone if they ask too many questions. Discreetly._ "

"Roger that."

Just like that, their orders were in. Men sterner than him with thicker spines but thinner skulls - they were only there for the paychecks. And unfortunately, the thrills.

People were going to get hurt by them. Again, the dark whispers encouraged Kyle to prepare the pounce, the sinking.

 _Don't let them hurt anyone._

"Alright, you bloody mongrel! Come on and face me-!"

And everything stopped like a drop of the needle. Impulse was shoved right out of the window when the heavy accent snapped Crane out, reminded him of one crucial thing that he was almost inclined to facepalm himself.

 _Seriously, lady!_ What fine timing for the woman in red to be entering the same floor as three GRE freelance contractors!

It was like a comedic scene cut from an action movie. Jack had only noticed them once she had turned around the corner, cutting her outburst halfway off with a halt and a skip.

She was in trouble, deep trouble.

"Boys. I'm gonna have to call you back."

" _Jack-?_ "

She gave a silent apology to shutting off comms and a reminder to get back to Bones after this was over. But right now, she couldn't get distracted. The brunette in the red hooded jacket was locked in complete focus, counting down the risks. One assault rifle in plain sight but it was angled low, enough to be a threat but not enough to be fired and draw more guests.

"I'm not supposed to be here, aren't I?" Jack asked.

One trooper gave a nod.

"Yeah," she muttered to herself. "Don't suppose we could forget about this and call it a day?"

A shake of the head this time.

"I figured as much."

The distance between the ex-kickboxer and the GIs shrunk. Two men unfolded a police baton each with a snap of the wrist - they wanted her to go quietly, no loud noises regardless if she had a say in it.

"Perimeter One, we have a survivor here." Basic radio talk for one GRE soldier to the device on his bullet-proof chest armor.

" _Affirmative. Bring her for evaluation._ "

"Come on, lady. We're not gonna hurt you."

Obvious lie. And the truth was: she was going to hurt them.

"You heard him. Move," one grunt, wearing a skull-patterned hockey mask, ordered. The rough push and rude demand didn't sway Jack off her feet. Even the firearm pointed dead on her didn't scare her.

But the patience was drawing thin.

"I said move-"

 _BOP!_

The jab to the mouth was sudden. A window of opportunity Jack created, seizing the anguished soldier by the hand and spinning him in front of her - a human shield. The gunner wouldn't shoot at his own ally, hell, he couldn't risk stirring up the infected mod outside.

Everything was in seconds. Quick and simple that the three thugs couldn't retort back. One boot on her captive and Jack sent him flying into the gunner but not without taking his baton. The other grunt came running, baton held up. Another opening: one good hook at the diaphragm and he arched back in pain. The moment of vulnerability he had received a good hit with the baton at his right, a good kick to his knee and his weapon stolen by Jack.

He was down and Jack wheeled quickly to the two jarheads. Twirling the two batons in both her hands to show off the flexibility in her ambidexterity. She knew how to use dual weapons.

So what, the men's anxious faces said that question. The numbers still surpassed her and so did the assault rifle against her dual batons.

The gun aimed straight but Jack arrested the barrel with the crossing of the batons, pushing it upwards. The second man thought he had an opening and readied a fist but he couldn't even touch her. A hard kick to his stomach and Jack used the momentum to pull the rifle out from the gunner's hands.

The next series of attacks were like a drummer's beat: a play to one face with his own police baton, then the other baton hit on his ally. Repeat and rinse. Their skulls were Jack's drums and she gave the best performance without a single pause in rhythm.

Geezus, this woman! Crane had witnessed everything from the shadows. She didn't need any sort of help whatsoever. Yes, he could have been a gentleman - he did have a running start to step in - but one shouldn't interrupt a show like that.

If he did so, she'd probably hit him too.

The ending act was both batons held up high before slamming down on one grunt's back. The entire squad was down for the count.

"Heh." Jack observed her work on the floor, giving one mocking twirl of the batons. "You boys should have called it a day."

However, she missed one. The first GRE soldier she took down slowly climbed back up, ready to strangle her from behind-

"Garph!" -his world suddenly shifted, spinning out of control.

Jack swung around, batons at the ready but halted at one bewildering sight. Right behind her, an infected had lunged right onto the GRE guy. Even he himself took the full comprehension that he was about to get mauled.

"Ga-AHHH!"

 _POW!_

Teeth didn't sink down. Claws didn't rip open his stomach. A fist sucker-punched him and he was out cold immediately.

That was close, Crane thought.

Then he realized his mistake.

His mind told him not to look back but he looked anyway. Every little motion did spook the lady in front of him.

Shit. She saw him.

What should he do?

Even the woman in red didn't know herself. She held her batons up, prepared to whack him down at a notice of a skittish jump. The sunglasses had slid down the bridge of her nose and revealed her wide hazel eyes to him.

She was scared out of her mind. Partly because she was with an infected but mostly because she was with _this specific infected_. It should have been like getting a present right at her feet on Christmas morning but the tense reality of danger overwhelmed her.

No. Not just that. She had already known there was something wrong with this Special.

Anyone could tell! The Hunter took too long to jump at her, to attack. It wasn't even looking for an opening. No matter how stiff it tried to be, Jack easily picked up on the little details.

Details an infected shouldn't and couldn't have. What made it harder for her decision on the next move were the golden eyes on her. Something was readable in them.

Emotions. That wasn't right but she read it just as well as she could on any other human being. Concern, worry, and fear rolled up into one bundle. Why could she read all that from an infected's eyes?

Suddenly, those eyes widened. At something else, not at her.

"Behind you!"

If Crane was human, she would have listened and turned. She could have easily seen the jump before it came at her. But the woman in red was petrified. Two words she shouldn't have heard burst out from his lips. Verbally.

"I got her-!"

"Infected!"

 _Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!_

The sight of a creature in the same premise as humans overrode the command to seize the woman. The powerfully deafening noise of gunfire urged her to duck to the opposite direction and Freakoid to dodge out of the way.

Jack kept her head down and feet going. Every bullet fired made her heart pound, splinters and concrete spraying everywhere. She slid to an ammo crate for at the setup area.

The chaos, however, escalated. She could hear more noises outside: shrieks of the damned specifically. The shots fired were nothing but lovely music for the bigger crowd. She wouldn't be able to escape without meeting Virals at the lower floors.

"Get the lady!"

Despite the discord happening around her, one odd thing assured her it wasn't going to add to the list of problems: the Hunter. It had several swift moments at locking its eyes on her - the closest thing to a meal but it didn't come after her. The eyes were filled with concern.

At himself, maybe? Freakoid made the stand. He leapt out of his hiding place and howled loudly. Telling the gunmen to come after him. Not her. Worry about the monster instead!

The squad compelled with bullets fired at him. But Freakoid was lighting fast, speeding around with every bullet-sponged cover. He was in an element that became a disadvantage to the GRE soldiers: the claustrophobic space. Freakoid basically bounced across the walls until he found one opening and shot his tendrils.

"GAH!" One body was off his feet and sent flying over the edge. Down, down he went for the walkers outside the lot, the long scream turned into a short gurgle.

"Shit!"

"Shoot it!"

It had pounced right in the middle of the fireteam and took out their leader. Firearms gravitated to the beast but it was a failure before the men could even pull the trigger. One claw yanked a combat knife swiftly from a grunt's belt and tossed that very weapon right into one's open skin. With one death as a distraction, the next trooper was targeted. A dropkick by a powerful Special was enough to fracture three ribs and to send him flying into a car's window.

This thing really could distinguish which was a bigger threat to him. Moreso, he was easily disarming weapons and deliver blows without teeth and claws. Almost like a military mutant. And that was a frightening thought to Jack.

She had to get out-

" _Your left!_ "

Again, that voice.

The first time it rang in her head the other day, she thought she had lost her mind. And she would have absolutely accepted it. Then the first time she heard Freakoid speak to her - _speak,_ she enforced that one word - it was like double-confirming that she had gone magnificently insane.

This time though, despite the number of chills she got running down her spine, she reacted with an elbow to a sneaky grunt's eye protection.

She saw a blade flash but she still kept to the pattern.

One grab to arrest the dangerous hand and direct it away from her, then an elbow down on her attacker's back before adding a knee kick to the chest. The GRE grunt tried to recover quickly when suddenly, his head went the wrong way.

No, Jack twisted it 180 degrees. His partner was right behind him. He couldn't do anything because the ex-kickboxer was in a dodging spin at his direction. Something felt painful when she attacked. The knife was gone from his dead friend's hand and now reappeared, plunged deep into his neck.

Two men down. But how many weren't there? The gunfire didn't seem to quiet down and the commotion outside was getting louder. Jack knew her odds - she was on the same floor as Freakoid, bloody hell!

Forget it. Let him deal with them.

She glanced out of her new cover, searching for a way, any way out. To her surprise, Jack spotted a zipline over the railing, going to the roof of a bank. Twenty, thirty feet away. A welcome saying that the Universe was giving her the backdoor.

 _Take it, Jackie!_

She unhooked her ascender off her belt. Mental note to herself _really_ needed to thank Siv for this gift!

Jack shot into a daring sprint, pushing out all sense of fear from her mind. With one leap over the railing and into the open air, the ascender snapped onto the wire. Wooshed down the line! In three seconds, the brunette would be safe on the other side!

 _Klack-thuh!_ The sound of metal wire snapped apart from a couple of grazing from the bullets. And the zipline went weak in her grip.

"No! NO! _NO!_ **_NO!_** " Jack screamed. Her whole world was rotating everywhere. She had only one way and that was down. Gravity said it so. This time, her luck had finally run out.

She wasn't going to be miraculously saved.

" _Got you!_ "

Jack felt the wind knock right out of her as she suddenly found herself being wrapped by protective arms. Everything was difficult for her to progress other than what she headed right into - a window.

 _CRAAASH!_

She felt linoleum and something heavy on her. A person. And it wasn't letting her go even as they rolled to a stop. If she wasn't in such a disoriented state from the near-death experience, she'd be thanking whoever saved her.

Then she saw the Hunter right on top of her. Canines clicking together.

"Aaaah!" Out of reflex, she gave a hard kick.

"Urgh!" He should have expected that. Crane stumbled back from the surprise boot and clutched his face. Man, that hurt. The terrified woman panickedly crawled away from him, getting to see his ugly face in all of its glory.

The danger wasn't over yet. Before her, Freakoid suddenly perked himself up and watched out of the broken window. Attentively. Sound picked up by his terrifyingly-sharp hearing or movement seen by his inhuman eyesight.

" _Dammit. Another squad's coming._ "

"Shit! _Shit!_ You really do talk!"

Her expression really showed it - she couldn't believe anything about him. Yes, he didn't speak at all but she had _heard_ those words. Even Crane himself was stunned at that revolution because he honestly thought no one would be able to. The woman's astonishment was on overdrive from the number of red lights going off in her.

"What the fuck-?! Why do I hear your voice inside my head?! What the bloody hell is going on?!"

Crane would like to know too. At the same time, he didn't want to know. But the longer this one-sided conversation took, the quicker the GRE men were coming.

" _Get out now!_ "

Jack was still flabbergasted by this development. But she could hear something whistling.

 _THUK! THUK!_

Metal arrowheads pierced right through the concrete wall, making the Hunter jump. Jack hopped wearily up to see five GRE men ascending up metal lines that had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

GRE had zipline guns! Like from the movies!

" ** _Now!_** "

 _Ok! Do what the talking zombie told you to do! Leave now! Ask questions later!_

Crane peeked back to see her take to the fire stairs. With one less thing to worry about, he grabbed one end of a zipline and with all his strength, pulled it off.

"Who-AAAAAAAH!" Two agents down. Three more left.

"Holy shit!"

The sight of a firearm out of a holster stopped Crane from getting the other zipline. He leapt back to a row of cubicles, watching the men take a stand through the broken window.

"What the fuck is that thing?!"

 _I'm not a thing, you jackasses!_

He howled. He needed the heat on him.

"Shoot it!"

And swiftly, he ducked behind cover from the fire.

 _Holy shit!_ He couldn't afford a zombie frontal attack with such high stakes and in even tighter space. Crane's only choice of action was to leave out the same way that woman took, locking it with a piece of pry bar he picked up from the floor.

That only bought him a minute. A few shots at the door was enough for the group to get out. But he was long gone, hurrying to the corridor above the foyer while he scanned for that one orange glow. It headed down to the first floor of the bank. Four more appeared behind it.

He rushed over to the second-floor foyer.

"Target on sight!"

Crane rarely thought of plans on the fly. It could have been said that he took a bit of imagination from the woman's daring jump-n-slam. One leap of fate off the rails with time almost standing still. Below, the hooded lady ducking to the receptionist desk for cover and four GRE goons aiming at her position.

All too focused to look up and see Freakoid lifting his balled-up talons for the ground pound.

It was a baby-version of a Hulk smash but the impact was enough to turn soldiers into astronauts for a second - balance and composure lost. One man couldn't regain them back fast enough to see himself covered with horrifying tentacles around his legs. Like the whipping of a bolas.

The urgency had spiked to all the levels but it was a lost cause. The soldiers even tried. They never predicted an infected to seize one man, tendrils wrapped up like a bow, and swinging into his own comrades. Or the common infected staggering behind them.

"There! Shoot it!"

From the second floor. Three barrels targeting Crane. Right, the assholes from earlier.

He dodged swiftly from the first firing, grabbing a rifle on the floor. It had to be a terrifying sight - even to Crane himself - to witness an infected using a gun. That hesitation was what he needed.

He spidered his way along the foyer's pillars and stuck to the height advantage. Combination of this body and his sharp mind, his expertise as a fighter gave Crane more than just wings. He was deadly. Five rounds into one grunt, six into another as he flew about in midair.

The last one had the courtesy of a tendril wrapped around his torso and pulled his body off the edge.

The impetus brought the monster towards him like an arrow but a rifle didn't aim dead at him. Just a fist to the jawbone. Back to the first floor, with the soldier's body as Crane's buffer.

 _Please tell me that's enough of you guys!_

Because the pot was boiling hot inside the bank, evidence with more Virals rushing into the sound of gunfire. By him and the soldiers.

He had to get that lady out. _Now-_

 _Click!_

Something was pitched to his feet. Small, narrow, with the pin pulled. Crane immediately knew what it was.

 _Flashbang!_

"Shit!" He jumped-

 _BANG!_

Everything went white, followed by the ringing in his ears. _Dammit!_ He had to see! Because the grunt he kicked away earlier had stood back up and came for vengeance. A freelance like Crane, getting the advantage over him with an injury - clutching his bruised chest and struggling with every hurtful breath.

The blurry gun pointed at the Hunter.

He could have sworn the first shot would have hit him. But something inside Kyle took the wheel and moved his feet. The second one was another miss. But the third grazed his shoulder.

"Gah!" Crane cowered down, a loud muffled roar exhaled out as he battled the pain. Stop it, he could shrug it off. Stand up now, hollered the voice inside.

They couldn't going to die here!

Finally, his vision crept back to see the German 9mm an arm's length away from him.

The trigger tightened-

 _THUD!_

Bone and brain matter flew from one good batter of a crowbar and the grunt's body dropped like a rock. His savior was one he never thought of seeing, one who shouldn't have come for a beast like him. It was pure insanity.

But the woman in red stood there, melee weapon in hand - she had picked it up somewhere during her entire retreat. Her face screamed, "why am I doing this?!". Heavy breathing from the running, the fighting and the shock.

She could have clobbered down again. But a sudden flinch from him stopped her. Arms over his head just in case. The many realities behind this one Special she was given was a lot to comprehend in one day but thankfully, she hadn't decided to kill him.

The next shrieks did tell her not to delay any longer. Along with palms forcibly banging on window panels. The horde had surrounded the entrance.

Cracks slithered, grew. Then finally shattered.

 _CRACK!_

 _Brrrrrring!_

It was time to go. The bank's alarm screamed at the intrusion, which meant an enormous lure for more zombies. What did help was the first distraction. The bodies of the GRE troops - unconscious or dead, they made a good barricade for the unlikely two to make their escape.

It was never as a group, of course. No offer to tag along but neither side decided to change their mind and kill the other on the spot. Jack had too much to worry about as she took to the maintenance hall.

Of course, Jack never registered she was being followed until a loud _thud_ behind her made her glimpse back. Freakoid had blocked the maintenance door behind them before sprinting down the hall. In milliseconds, he was already catching up to her. Bloody hell, give her a break!

The maintenance hall, however, wasn't entirely safe. The exit had four wandering Biters, snapping their heads towards the new prey.

Before the crowbar could go up, a blur swooped past her. Freakoid was already right in the Biters' faces, not enough time for them to retaliate. Tendrils fired at one's legs. A strong tug made it timber and for good measure, Freakoid grabbed its head and pushed it down - the exposed brain matter splattered on the floor.

"Gaaaargh-!" _THUD!_

One infected gnashed its teeth angrily at the rebellion but was cut down by a whack of the crowbar. Jack was already on the last one, breaking his leg like an axe to a tree.

But she wasn't stopping. She wasn't in any mood to question why this Hunter was sticking around like a watchful guardian. Just count her blessings until she was far away from this place and that thing.

" _Wait!_ "

Get out of her head! This was all too eerie, even for the Wild Dog! One shoulder shove through the door, right into bright daylight and freedom.

"Freeze!"

Another roadblock was laid before Jack. The screaming alarm and the growing horde inside and outside fences had ushered the last surviving squad of GRE soldiers to abandon their orders and head for escape. The pay wasn't enough for this shit. Neither was having to deal with some random refugee popping out of nowhere.

"Seriously," she gasped heavily. "How many are there of you blokes?"

" _Drop down!_ "

This time, Jack listened. Her body did anyway - trained diligently to react at anything, even to a warning holler.

"Rraaagh!"

"Oh, _fuck!_ "

The blistering sun wasn't enough to stop Freakoid. Primal persistence drove it on, bulldozing the fireteam - a bowling ball to the last standing pins.

" _Run!_ "

Jack didn't just yet - ghastly fixated on the parrying and takedown moves Freakoid performed. How could anyone not stop for a second to see something like that in the middle of an outbreak no less?

But the thrashing at the wire fence was enough to get her moving. Onto a series of armor trucks and up to a fire escape at the next building. The red-jacketed woman was out of there.

Every second under the sun bled out a portion of Crane's stamina. He couldn't stay any longer and the GRE grunts could see that. Quick thinking under a tense situation was no feat to Crane as he passed a gaze back and forth to one thing.

He fired his tendrils at the wire fence and pulled with everything he had, pain included.

 _THUNK!_

The one link mesh swung right into one man, sending him a good solid five feet as biters swarmed into the perimeter like sharks.

" _Go sic them!_ " Crane thought bitterly.

"Fall back! Fall back _now!_ "

"There's too many of them!"

Crane battled with his own sunburn problem to care about the common infected trying to pull him in with the grunts. He forced his way into the next-door building with what little strength he had before the amount of shade he leapt in dampened his agony down. The absolute conviction on getting far from the disarray as possible gave him the extra push he needed too.

He made one pitstop for a breather while he listened. The alarm wailed on, the gunfire ceased and the undead screaming was softer. It stayed that way for a good few seconds.

" _Good… They're not following._ "

And he laughed.

He literally laughed. Of all the things to chuckle at, this was it. How long had it been since he just burst out like that?

It was crazy to him - he should be waking up any minute now. And yet the experience gave him clarity. He was still the same man he was back in Harran...with just an upgrade, he supposed. Crane didn't resort to animalistic, vicious impulses like last night. He took those men out just as he did to Rais' men.

And it was a nice thought of giving GRE a finger. Or talon, in his case.

Alright. Time to look for that woman.

It was an easy find: one orange glow six blocks away from his location. Alone. But the strange, unsettling thing was that it wasn't moving.

So of course, Crane was worried. Did the woman get hurt along the way?

Or was it starting?

Shit, he nearly forgot about her condition.

The Hunter was back on his feet. The closer he got towards the heartbeat, the more dread crept over him. Beat, beat, beat the pulse went. Slow and no change in tempo. The elation he had earlier was completely gone.

Right, Crane had a job. One critical job. As much as he didn't want to do it...

He cautiously turned the corner and saw the woman in red, her back to him. Head heavy under the hood and every breath lethargic. Completely unaware that an infected was next to her.

And that was good to Crane - it would make things easier on his conscience.

 _Sorry._

He didn't notice the tightening of the blunt weapon as he reached out. Or the sudden turn, the warcry or the crowbar coming at him.

All Crane got was pain.

 _THUD!_

"Gak!" Excruciating, blinding, god-forbid, horrendous _pain_. Enough for Crane to shrink back and grab the sides of his head, fearing his head had cracked open. However, he didn't go down.

Rather he was too pissed to do just that. Angry golden eyes snapped back at the woman, who was very _fine and dandy_.

"Make up your damn mind, lady!"

Did she want him _dead or alive?! What?!_ Just do it so he could be done with it!

He shouldn't have yelled. The heinously raucous voice out from a creature made the hair stand on the back of the ex-kickboxer's neck. The crowbar rose back up again.

 **_THUD!_ **

This hit was a lot harder than the first. In the short amount of time, he had forgotten he wasn't a human again. So the panicked lady with the red hoodie had every right to knock his lights clear off. Even Crane himself would have done it if he was alone with a talking monster.

Well. Nothing much he could do now. He was unconscious again.

* * *

A/N: 5/11/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. And I will say, this is my better revamping on the original version. There were a lot of things I am happy for and wished I had done them before. Crane is given more of a frontal spotlight than in the original and I changed up his zombie tactics because I didn't want to rely too much on a Night Hunter's skillset. Crane's mutation is and should be something more unique. Moreover, characters mentioned/heard like Bones and Lenny got a lot more exposure - one where I had wanted Lenny to be involved in this chapter but never did. Also the humor and action got ten times better. If anything, I'm so proud of this chapter.

There are some things I did take away like the female voice, the new infected type and other details. They're not gone but for a later revealing and with the direction I'm taking, this will really shape the prologue plot and later points much better.

Moreover...maybeeee, I should give Crane a break. Felt like I gave him too much this chapter. Which is unfortunate 'cuz of what's coming in the next original chapter for him. Hm...can't really think how so this will be a challenge.

Ah, it'll be fine. It's Crane anyway. I hope you guys enjoy this revamped chapter and look forward to the next revamp.


	7. SIX: A SILENT VOICE

**DISCLAIMER*: There is no protagonist shipping. There are going to be some NPC shipping (as best as I can write because...I'm honestly not that great at writing romance. Sorry, people)**

* * *

Chapter Summary

 **\- A FRIENDLY CHAT**

 _Fuck… I got caught. And by the woman I swore to kill. Just like that. Maybe it's for the better… But there's something about this person. About this group of hers. Something about immunity. And they know about the Tower... I don't want to believe it but...could...could this be the lead we've been looking for? - Kyle_

* * *

 **SIX:** **A SILENT VOICE**

* * *

There were a million things Crane wanted to do. A million things to change. To go back to normal. The list was extremely long. He made too many decisions that royally fucked him up: like work for GRE, not be a lying bastard, not following orders, and more. He was already a monster before he was turned.

There were a few things he wanted to ask himself too. Even if he got the answers, it was either the ones he didn't want or the ones he knew all along.

Right now, in the darkness of his mind, one question stuck out on top of the others.

"What the bloody hell am I doing?"

The woman in red beat him to the punch.

"This is the same zombie that tried to eat me! Twice!"

The aggressive pacing back and forth was enough for Crane to try and stay awake. All he could do was watch the lady think aloud, as just clueless as he was. After all, she had finally caught him. The talking sentient zombie. A sentence that hit the ball right out of the park and onwards to the ocean.

She couldn't handle that. Neither could Crane.

"Everyone's gonna tell you you've gone mental. Again-!"

He slipped back into the darkness. There was nothing for him. It didn't matter if he had this new body: he was weak and powerless. He couldn't even finish his goal. He was far from home - and the people at the Tower wouldn't give a second thought if they saw him. Because he would have done the same to himself. He was one big, fat threat.

"Well. Know what? Fine. I'm already crazy. I can tick off 'voices in my head' and add 'zombie friend' to my bucket list!"

Most of all, he was on the edge between human and infected, neither side of the coin. This couldn't go on any longer.

He had gone mad ever since he 'woke up' without knowing it.

"I hate myself for this… You're very welcome, Jackie," she boasted, followed by a sigh before she wheeled around. The vision too blurry to see her face. "Alright."

Crane had been waiting for this. Expecting it. He would be lying to himself that it didn't frighten him - someone about to take his life. It was more bewildering that she took this long to axe him down. He hazily glanced up to see her walk towards the zombie - the one who planned to kill her out of mercy.

He closed his eyes.

"You're coming with me."

What? No. Stop. _Don't come near me._ He was a danger. His consciousness swam back up. And suddenly, he saw…

The Mother.

Standing mockingly before him. Looking down at him conceitedly with that mask of hers. Hiding the true face of hers. Grotesque. Deceiving.

A lie.

Fucking...how could she have come back? He killed her. He ripped her head off.

He wanted to move. Get her before she'd do anything again.

 _Kill her-_

"Hey, Freakoid." The image was interrupted violently by the thick accent. Where the Mother kneeled down before him, the woman in the red hoodie took her spot. Even up close, Crane couldn't see the eyes - who would have thunk it that a zombie couldn't see past reflective lens? The only way to read the expression was the frown and furrowed eyebrows.

She waved a hand and waited for a response.

Nothing. Crane was in and out of the darkness again. He didn't feel himself being carried.

"Urrrgh! God… You're fucking heavy," she complained, shuffling his limp body with an arm over her shoulder. "Lose some weight, why don't you?"

Shaddup… He had a long few days.

Kyle wanted to voice that out. But he was too tired to care about himself.

And yet this person was going out of her way to carry his pathetic body somewhere. Did she, a human, not have any common sense? It should be to run away from a dangerous infected. Don't even poke it with a stick.

No, that was wrong. She had many times where she should have kicked the bucket. But the cautiousness, the moves and the probing - she had been down the same vicinity as he had. The strange lady was taking the risk to stop for a zombie. Not out of courtesy, or any sort of oath. Just because she was ordered - Crane was the main target of her group for some reason.

That didn't matter now. He was stuck here, inside a monster. Alone and with no hope. So if you get badly-bruised lemons...you might as well make lemonade. And he was going to need help. That was something he had never asked for before. Kyle Crane had always been the lone wolf, soloing his way around and taking the responsibility upon himself - no matter how heavy it got.

As crazy as it sounded in his head, this woman might be the best bet Crane had to break the boundary.

Alright. He'd take the chance. Just this one time, he'd voice out for help. After all...this brunette intended to carry an infected like a soldier dragging a wounded across a battlefield.

That was if she wouldn't change her mind and decide to kill him.

"Hey."

 _Click, click, click!_

His eyes snapped open to the sharp snapping of fingers. Right in an ear too. Ouch, so there _was_ a downside to such powerful hearing.

In his awakening moment, he tried to move. His body refused. Crane found his hands tied up with cable ties. Military standards - the woman must have picked from the parking lot during her flee.

...But did she really think this would stop a zombie? He could use a talon to cut free. Then again, Crane was still between la-la-land and reality to put that to the test.

Footsteps ambled across wooden planks. It took a second for him to realize the place he was in was new. A hotel's room from the looks of it. The master bed had been destroyed completely from the aftermaths of the outbreak to being scavenged. There had been recent tenants inside, already hacked down by the blood-stained crowbar. And it was still in her hand, ready for anything.

It was just him and the hooded woman in the bedroom.

She had dragged Freakoid's body all the way to the hotel for a seemingly-safe place. There was the room service to do: drop his body on the carpeted floor, kill two Biters, barricade the door so there wouldn't be any no interruption and make sure the room had good enough space for her to maneuver. In case this whole setup could get ruined. Once it was all done, she leaned against a drawer and waited.

For what? For him to do something? Crane murmured his tiredness out with a struggling attempt to sit up.

She then started.

"Now today's been a wild ride for me. And I'm guessing it's the same for you. It's not every day you get a zombie that 'talks'. For all I know, I could be losing it and I'll fully accept that." The woman let the silence hang, a stern glimpse behind the shades. "But you're not like other infected. You know how to fight."

Fight with his claws, tendrils, and teeth or fight like a human? But Crane refrained from saying that.

"So I'm going to take this chance. If you're really are some kind of zombie with high awareness and you're not gonna rip me to shreds...I'll take the binds off." She positioned herself in a more threatening stand, holding something out as a warning with the shadow of her hood making her face menacing. An unlit UV flashlight. "But don't be upset at me if you attack first."

Fair enough.

"So… Let's have a friendly chat, shall we?"

The sentence just made Kyle feel like he was back at school in front of his strict middle-grade teacher. The crowbar was the ruler. The lady's tone, though, was more like "I've been through too much and if you pull one more stunt, I'm shutting you up."

Crane was partially regretting his early decision. He thought over the pros and cons, laying together the details from his eavesdropping in his head.

This group of hers...they tagged him as a 'candidate'. They had plans. Which meant he was going to become an experiment. Probably open up like a frog on a dissecting tray. But they wanted him alive. Or this woman would have killed him way back. Moreover, a talking zombie to this group could be something of a gem in the rough they could exploit. And he didn't like that - being someone's pet zombie.

Yet this lady could very well be the only person willing to hear a 'talking zombie' out. There was no denying it that she had heard both his words and his...thought-voice? Whatever that telepathic jumbo was.

Should he risk it? Inside the room, he had just as little trust as she did to him.

All of a sudden, a sigh broke the tension.

"Yeah, Jackie," she uttered to herself with a slap on her thigh. She was off on a bolt for the door. "You were totally losing it."

Wait. _Wait! **Wait!** You can't give up that easily! You just heard me talk! _

Crane still needed answers. Moreover, he needed someone right now. Anyone.

He couldn't lose this chance!

"W-Wait."

The distorted voice out of him was enough to send shivers in the human - she was back in attack mode like at the parking lot, her weapon whipped high up like the bat of a baseball pitcher. She was primed and ready.

Yeah, not gonna use his real voice. Even he wasn't used to it. Which meant he had no choice but to think-speak.

Oh, this was going to make things more awkward. But he tried again.

" _Wait._ " Man, his head was still swimming… Kyle shook his head with a gruff, failing to catch the flinch off the woman's tense shoulders. " _Please, just wait._ "

The weapon still stayed high for what seemed like eons to Kyle. She searched for the voice in her head, her gaze falling back on the Hunter. She waited again - no jump, no sudden move. Just an honest plead out of a monster.

"B-Blo…" She was too flabbergasted to finish her curse, lowering down the crowbar. "And I thought I was hearing things."

" _You're not the only one,_ " he continued languidly. An attempt to help break the ice.

It wasn't working. The frown on her face got a lot thinner than before. The weapon was still at a level that could do some damage if he'd make a mistake.

"How...how are you doing that?" she dared to ask. "What are you?"

" _I wish I knew._ " The fog in his head was clearing up but the headache still lingered. "Hrgmm…"

The groggy growl could have been mistaken for a threat, enough for the grip on the crowbar to be tightened, hinged back for a prepared hit. The expanding rib cage from one inhale was as threatening as a Volatile ready for the kill. But as he deflated, the weapon arched down slowly.

" _...But I think I have an idea or two on what._ "

"Oh. Ok," she chided, folding her arms. He wasn't sure if it was an attempt to shake off her discomfort or not. "How about sharing it with the class then?"

Share? It wasn't like it was a secret. There wasn't anything from stopping him except himself. The answer was plain and simple.

And he hated it.

A sentient zombie. Maybe even like the Mother herself, a sentient Volatile.

The reality behind it finally sunk in and it hurt. Horribly.

Crane was about to give that answer. Gazing up to the woman, however, stopped him. Because he had just noticed something about her. Or was it his "infected" side telling him that?

There was something...off. But he couldn't put his finger on it. She was human, yes, she hadn't turned into him yet.

His vision saw everything 'behind' anything. But not zombies. That was the drawback to his infected capabilities: humans lit up like fireflies at night and day but Kyle was almost desensitized towards the presence of the undead. It wasn't so much a 'lack of it' but more of 'a need' to find humans. Prey.

The orange pulse beating in the brunette's chest was just like any other survivor. But the vibe was different. Strange. Unexplained. The only thing Kyle could describe to himself was how visibly dull the shade of color was through her veins. A little darker, dimmer. Blood orange.

 _She is back._

That wasn't his gut telling him but the voice - it knew what she was: not prey. It made no sense to Kyle.

He could clearly see right then and there the lady was not the Mother. A Caucasian woman in her thirties, wearing an attire sort of compatible for survival but also for the brawl - if it wasn't for that flashy red hoodie. Not a sentient Volatile with her tongue drooping behind her rotten mandibles, dressed in old traditional clothes and jewelry.

But several times, the voice kept aggressively pointing that the Mother was back.

The impatience on the woman's eyebrows and frown drew thin but nothing lashed out from her - after all, she had just noticed an infected was giving a hard look at her for some reason.

And now that he had a good look...it prompted him to ask.

" _You… Why are you like the Mother?_ "

He could have sworn the expression on her face tightened even more as her shades slipped down the bridge of her nose.

"Excuse me?" she muttered aloud.

"No...I…" Crane groaned, unable to get another word out because of the dizziness. That sounded so stupid now that he thought on it. " _How hard did you hit me?_ "

"Well, clearly not hard enough," the brunette droned, sounding utmost offended that she was prompted to throw out a laugh. "I have to be one ugly mother to birth you, Freakoid. And I don't even have children."

" _N-No. No. Not you… Someone else,_ " he struggled so much with both the grogginess and the hatred. Even the thought of calling this woman 'mother' was nauseous. OR that fucking Volatile freak.

"Okkk. Creep level to the max here. I think I've had my fill for the day." Off she wheeled for the door with a wave of the hand. "Goodday."

Wait.

Hold on.

 _Just like that?!_

This woman wasn't even _fazed at all!_ Normal people would be, for crying out loud!

"W-Wait a second!" Crane gave himself a hard shake of his head, overwhelmed with disbelief. " _You're gonna leave like that? You - You just found an infected talking to you._ "

"Until you called me _mother_." She didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. "That's good enough for me not to stick with someone looney, human or zombie wise."

" _Hey, it wasn't my intention. And look who's talking. Who tries to pick a fight with the GRE?_ "

"Oh. So someone who has turned knows about them," the brunette pointed with intrigue. It almost felt like Crane had made a mistake there. "Then you should already know that they aren't the kind of people who would _let me_ **_live._** "

Ok, that was true. He couldn't deny that.

The woman in red slapped her hands together, the kind that said she was finished with this conversation. "Look. There's probably some sad sob story before you got turned into...this. But I've got better things to do than listen to the voice in my head…" The smile expressing the phrase, "no offense" on her face just stayed strong while the growing nihilism stayed on Crane's. "Sooo, goodbye and good luck, mate."

With that, she headed for the door.

Crane couldn't believe it. _Why, you arrogant, little…_

She may have hog-tied his claws down. But the spite helped split them open and out came the tendrils. Spider-webbed at her heels.

"Whoa! Gak!" The sudden jerk and the hard floor certainly took Jack by surprise, making her drop the flashlight. Desperately, she tried to claw away but the unnatural appendages snaked around her arms and pulled her body forth. "You fucking bastard!"

Closer she was pulled to the Hunter, now purposefully expanding himself to snap off the binds. Fear swallowed Jack whole - Freakoid was free. He towered over her, a giant in a dog's presence.

There wasn't Mr. Nice Guy anymore. He certainly wasn't going to give her the courtesy and politeness because she was a woman. Kyle was done getting walked on and an infected didn't need tolerance.

" _Now you listen here._ " The ex-kickboxer tried to worm her way out but he had made sure the wraps were tight. _Very_ tight. " _I don't know how I got my marbles back. But whatever it was, it has something to do with you. You did something to me_."

"Oh. How flattering," she chided. But she was shaking. "Except I have no idea what you mean, _mate!_ "

" _Well, better start thinking. Because I can switch back._ " Her angry glare shrunk away. Oh shit indeed. " _So unless you don't want me biting your face off, you're gonna tell me what you did back at that church._ "

"Excuse me," the brunette started before bursting out a holler. "You were trying to kill me!"

He clicked his teeth inside his closed mouth, a very thin frown plastered on his face. That was all true. He wasn't trying to pass the blame onto a stranger.

" _I...I know…_ " The grip softened. Just a little. For a tiny glimpse, Freakoid didn't look so big and threatening to the Wild Dog. " _I shouldn't even be back._ "

The label Crane had - the Mother forced it upon him. When she downed that blue liquid into his mouth, it signed his fate forever.

 _"Maybe you'll understand when you see it with my eyes."_

Two days, he saw through the same eyes the Mother had. Two days and he wished for everything to be normal. Even glancing down at the woman twisted his insides. He acted out as a monster ready to tear her apart - just as he nearly did to that runner last night.

He wasn't this monster. He was Kyle Crane. And he wanted his feet back on the ground.

" _But...I need help. And you're all I got right now._ "

That was the truth. Crane had finally said it out from his lips. Inside the hotel room, he exposed this weak side inside his monstrous shell to a complete stranger. The mysterious brawler was his best and only lead.

The shades had slipped down to the woman's neck. The eyes were the windows into a person's soul. First was panic, dying down to confusion. Then observation, a hard and serious glance. The red-hooded woman dissolved the honesty seeping from an infected - probably because she had no choice but to listen. She had a freak on top of her, her limbs bound together.

It was still strange for someone in this kind of situation to be unusually calm.

Out of the blues, she grinned. Like a Cheshire Cat. Her head tilted to the right, the messy ponytail swaying out of her hood. The curls brushed against his vein-covered claw.

Wait. That wasn't on purpose, right?

"Hm-hm." There was an odd tone in her voice. "Is this your way of softening me up so I can go easy on you?"

Crane's animalistic eyes widened. He felt a lump get stuck in his throat. "What?"

Clueless. And the woman in red played on that, tilting her head left and eyeing him with a spark that...kinda scared and welcomed him at the same time. "Alright. I'll play along. So what did you do before you turned into...this? Did it simple, slow? Or were you the type who likes to 'indulge the moment'?"

His eyes stretched even more. The bells inside his skull rang violently.

"Whoa! Hang on there!" His voice cracked. It wasn't any better that the distorted voice of a monster was breaking. " _Time out!_ "

She hunched an eyebrow. Why the shyness, she said silently with that grin. "You said you have your marbles back, right? And you were human once. Can't be your first time-"

"W-What first time?!" Was she seriously suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?! Also, _what?! Huh?!_

His brain couldn't proceed any of this! Did that hit really mess it up?

"Come now. You've probably smoothed your way into a lot of women's hearts in the past, right? Tall, mysterious, tough guy the ladies flock to? Get them thinking "he's someone who needs help getting out of his shell"?" she chided, mimicking the stereotypical tone a woman out for a good time at the bar would use. "Somewhere along those lines."

" _Are we really talking about this?!"_ Why was he feeling flustered? Wait, no! Why should a zombie feel embarrassed? Also, **_NO!_ ** He wasn't that kind of person outside of work!

"Hm. Maybe I was wrong. Rather finicky, given that you're now a bloodthirsty Hunter."

She was toying with him. She had to be!

" _This isn't what you think!_ "

Unknowingly, Crane's full-blown embarrassment had weakened down his clutch over the mischievous woman. The awkwardness widened the distance between him and her more as he 'politely' pushed himself off the lady.

Just enough room for her to raise herself up.

The attack came at Crane out of the blues. No fists, no kicks. Just softness on his rough lips. One second was the overwhelming, spontaneous shock heating up in his stomach - the next, pain. Teeth bore down on his lower lip.

What sold it even more for him to bolt and get away was the contact. Something tasted vile, horrible in his mouth. Acidic and bitter. The taste of iron mixing in with this strange but familiar tang.

"Gack!" It made Crane finch back, right off his knees and holding the painful part of his mouth. She hadn't become a Biter - but she deliberately bit him! Of her own volition. _Again!_

There was the wicked gleam he saw back at the parking lot and the bank. The woman was gunning for his reaction. Because in his panic, the tendrils had been retracted back into his arms when he cowered back. The space between them was wider and her limbs were free.

Oh shit.

It was too late. The crazy brawler wasn't going to let him go. Her legs shot up and lassoed around his neck. Freakoid's world went in one big circle as Jack forced him over. The roles switched: she was the one on top of him, a forearm shoving down on his apple, her weight pinning him down and her legs locking his arms from firing the tentacles.

A ruse. And he fell for it like a pranked schoolboy.

"Now you listen well, jackarse," she demanded. "I have no idea why you're able to think. Could have been all those punches I gave you. I'll gladly demonstrate my skill again to help your noggin."

That was one possibility he had thought before. But Crane couldn't voice that out with his throat being pushed in.

"But I don't have the patience to be doing 20 questions. Since we both don't know, then we might as well figure this out together. Because you might be a missing link the Ravs have been looking for."

" _What?_ "

"Right now, you're a bloody mystery. And if solving it can get us one step closing to finding a cure, then you're gonna be cooperative. No more of that tentacle stunt either." She gave another push to reinforce her point. "Capisce?"

" _What are you talking about?_ " Crane choked. " _There's already one being made._ "

It had to. Camden was on it.

"Of course, I know that. I'm surprised an infected like you knows." She was then just as surprised as Kyle was. But for a different reason. "Wait, can zombies read minds? Do you read minds?"

 _She knows?_ How would she have known about Camden and the cure?

The woman in red shook her head - just move on with the main topic first. "Whatever. The fact is, a lot of people are trying to fix this problem. Not just me. Good, clever people. GRE are fucking bootlickers and the whole world has abandoned two cities now."

Oh boy. If she knew she was dealing with an ex-GRE agent.

"Like someone told me before, we're the ones who need to do something. And you know that."

There was a strong tone to that last sentence - this lunatic had observed Crane well enough to see past the 'infected mindlessness', to know how far he was capable to do. And another thing he never thought she would pick on: compassion.

"You want a cure just like everyone else, don't you?"

He did.

He really did.

It was the whole reason Crane started this long journey. Not just for himself, but for everyone in Harran.

That moment of hesitation, of yearning in those golden eyes, loosened her shove a little. A tiny compromise for air. "So use your marbles and think. Help me do my job."

" _And what the fuck is your job?_ " He bared his canines at her, trying to worm his neck from her arm. No go.

"To find out what's happening to this virus and all of us. That's my job."

The Hunter looked at her like she was mad. No, she definitely was. This virus was doing exactly what it did - it brought back the screaming damned. It turned him into _this_. It killed lives and destroyed homes. What was the point of learning more from it?

But he couldn't deny that there was something up with this virus. This woman understood that. So did her group. Had it festered and spread into something more dangerous during the time he was out? Did Crane and the others overlook something? Or was it a wild goose chase this group was sending this woman off?

It had to be. All the leads Crane found and explored all the way to the end were nothing but dead ends and broken promises. The only thing left was on Camden finishing the cure. And the vials were lost forever.

Yet, he couldn't let it go. The wanting was deceiving him and the hope was poisonous. The sneaky question of "could this be the lead he was searching for this entire time?" wrinkled deep into his thoughts and even, in his chest.

"What say you?"

The determination from the woman's stance encouraged that hope in him. A person he gave the Harran virus - so wishful that she'd find the answer before she would kick the bucket.

...Alright. Let's see how far this rabbit hole would take him. So Crane stopped his squirming.

" _Crystal,_ " he said. " _Now get off._ "

The smirk came back.

"Good." The woman bounced off the scary monster. "Glad we've come to an agreement."

Again. Just like that. She simply readjusted her shades back over her eyes, as if nothing ever happened inside the room.

"Gack..." This shmuck attitude. She was like Rahim. The Hunter cowered back as he ran his tongue on the holes in his gum. Damn. It smarted. " _Dammit..._ _You bit me!_ "

"What are you, a big baby? It's just a nip. At least you didn't lose an ear like Masha did."

" _What? Who - What the FUCK is wrong with you? I have the Harran virus!_ " he hollered. The biggest deal she should be seeing.

"And what? I'll get more infected?" And the deal was shoved aside like it was yesterday's old news. Kyle was lost with words.

" _Excuse me,_ " he finally uttered as the woman leaned back to a wall, hands in pockets. " _But normal people should be worrying about being infected and turning._ "

"I'll cross that road when I get there," she replied so confidently. "And that's a long way to go, mate."

" _Are you this egotistical to people? Or just to zombies?_ "

Jack simply shrugged her shoulders, her smirk still staying stubbornly strong. "Well. It was one of my redeeming qualities on show."

" _I'm sorry?_ "

"You know, a box that showed images. A TV," she pointed.

" _I know what a TV is. I'm not dense,_ " he hissed. " _Geezus. This was a bad idea._ "

"What? You're in the presence of an old idol. Not an actress if that's what you were hoping for but a pro's better than nothing."

" _Ok. You've completely lost me. What are you talking about?_ " he groaned irritatedly.

The woman in red gave an odd look of puzzlement from the disconnected vibe she was getting, the shades sliding down the bridge of her nose again. "Hang on. You know about GRE but you...don't recognize me from TV?"

" _Why should I? You're some spokesperson or something? A narcissist?_ "

It was then that it clicked to her. Jack glanced at him, insulted. Offended! She flayed out her arms, presenting herself. "Mad Jack."

All she got was a shrug from the Hunter. That alone baffled her.

"The Wild Dog?" Nothing. "Previous kickboxing world champion? Four years in a row? 2012 showdown between me and the Scorpion at the Scanderoon Sports Palace?!"

Absolutely nothing but a shake of the head. To be frank, Crane wasn't into kickboxing. Or any women's sports for that matter.

But that name she just said…

Before he could think about it, Jack's arms dropped down to her sides. The mouth gaped wide open, a fly could wonder in and choke her.

"Unbelievable… What was I even thinking?" she said to herself with a scoff. "As if an infected would know stuff like that."

" _I do know. I was human,_ " he hissed. Maybe he should have rethought before he decided to rely on the lunatic woman. Again, Kyle. _A lunatic!_

"Well, clearly, you were more into the hockey channel before you got turned."

He narrowed his eyes. " _...Ok, that was a good guess. I'll give you that._ "

"Of course. You're too easy to read."

And now she was talking out of her ass. Him? A freak was easy to read like a book?

"What a day." Jack heaved out a sigh. "Bones' gonna have a field day with this one-"

" _No._ " Freakoid was very quick, fueled by fear. A claw latched onto the hand holding the earpiece. One person learning about him was enough. More was too much. It was a terrible idea: if more people knew, it'd be like a circus. And he was the freakshow.

But something stopped him. Sharp and right at his abdomen. In his attempt to stop her, the brawler had pointed her crowbar at him, ready to pierce. The cheeky smile vanished. She did warn him she'd give the first blow if Freakoid would overstep his boundary.

" _I'm not...fine with this. With any of this… I don't want anyone else knowing._ "

"Then you can leave."

Crane was dumbfounded at the response. But she wasn't kidding.

"I'm not going to pretend that I didn't just meet you and slip it under the carpet. The Ravs are the only ones who can find a cure and they need all the intel they can get. You can't stop me because you're scared."

" _I'm not…_ " It wasn't fear. It was shame. Hence why the sentence died out in Crane's head.

"You want a cure," she reinforced that point to him. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do."

His grip tightened on her wrist but she didn't show any reaction to the small pain.

Negotiations were out the window. Because she was right: they wouldn't get anywhere if he tried to stall. But what could she do? Everything about this woman and her group was vague. Hell, he had never heard of this Ravs group.

It could be another faction trying to exploit innocent lives. Or a bunch of people selling on lies and fake concoctions. But they had some sort of mission important to them.

Immunity. Secret weapon. Cure.

What was their game? Was it out of desperation? Afraid to become the undead like him?

No. The woman was affiliated with this group and she had nothing of the sort. Her whole body exhumed a strong aura as she stared down a dangerous mutant. There was something in her stance that reminded him a bit too much of himself in his first few days - only that she had an 'older' look about her. Not age-wise. But experience-wise.

Crane could tell...there was no getting through to her.

He grunted defeatedly and let go of her hand. Like a child being forced to obey his parent, he went to a corner.

That was a sight Jack had never thought to see. A zombie, brooding.

"Bones, do you copy?"

" _Jack?_ " Her caller came online - the young male voice. " _Oh, thank god. What happened to you?_ "

"A lot. Not too sure where to begin."

" _Start from the top then. You scared us when you went radio silent._ "

"Sorry, mate. Had a run-in with GRE. They're doing some kind of recon from the looks of it."

" _Them again._ " A loud groan like a spectator after the end of a bad game match - the esports kind, not the real kind - seeped through the mic. " _Why are they still around?_ "

"Sounds like you had your fair share over at the Outskirts."

" _The ones here found one of our old hideouts. Now they're trying to find us for some reason._ "

"Hm," Jack huffed. "Well, they certainly never expected survivors to still be in the Outskirts. Taking all sorts of measures, I presume?"

" _All of it. And there's Lenny's traps too. Doesn't help they're up to something._ "

Or looking for something, Crane thought to himself.

"We don't have any eyes on them?"

" _Geyong said she might be able to after she's finished with an 'experiment' of hers. Her words, not mine. For now, Asem's keeping watch._ "

"As always. I guess things are still the same even after I left."

" _Things aren't the same. The base is in need of repair, we're thin on numbers and you're in another infested city, chasing after a Grad's half-boiled ideas._ "

"Now I wouldn't call them half-boiled. I did find you a Candidate, didn't I?"

" _Speaking of which, how's that Hunter-catching? He wasn't too much trouble?_ "

Right. The tracking. Freakoid had almost forgotten he was being watched, tagged and followed. Even if he would have cut ties from this woman, her group still had tabs on him.

Where the hell was this damn tracker, he asked again and tiredly.

"Right. The Hunter." Jack paced about with a nervous step. Oh dear. How was she going to explain this one without sounding crazy? It was already terrible when she thought about it.

" _I've been watching the monitor the whole time._ " Which meant this person was seeing two dots on the screen in a small space. " _You were all over the map but hey, at least you caught him._ "

"Yeah." More than she bargained for. "Bones. About the Hunter… There's something you need to know."

" _About what?_ "

" _He's never going to believe you._ "

Jack wheeled back, her silence responding to the creepy thought-speech. If Freakoid could see past the sunglasses, he would notice how big her hazel eyes were.

How the _fuck?_

The Hunter must have pieced the conversation together. No, he _heard_ Bones' replies. And he was waiting for the curtains to fall with that snobbish posture of his. Not for his failure of a performance, but hers.

" _Go ahead. I'm sure this will go fucking well._ "

Oh, this bloody bastard. He was banking on the Ravs thinking she had gone insane.

"Excuse me. Earlier, you were saying you didn't want others knowing-"

" _Jack? You've got company?_ " the young voice called out.

"Yes. Company. Let's call it that." _Unwanted '_ guest' was more like it."I've sorta made a revolution with this candidate of ours. And it's a doozy."

" _Try me. We've already gotten a lot of strange things these past few weeks. And there's your secret weapon. What else can top those off?_ "

"Aha." If he asked for it, Jack couldn't do anything but comply. "Well. How should I say this... Remember our discussion about communication between the dead?"

" _Yeah?_ " his voice trailed off, sounding uncertain with where she was heading with this.

Jack paced around slowly, eyes still on the grumpy Hunter. Who was to say he wouldn't jump on her to stay quiet?

"It talked to me."

" _...I'm sorry. What?_ " It was almost like the voice on the other end didn't catch that. No, he needed another confirmation. " _Can you repeat that again?_ "

"The Hunter. _Talked_ to me," Jack explained firmly.

" _Ah. Ok… Metamorphically or verbally?_ "

"Verbally."

" _Are you sure?_ "

"Yes. I'm very sure." Oh thank the Universe, this was starting off good.

" _Right… I'll get Asem. Asem!_ "

"Now hold on a minute! Come back to the mic, Bones!"

" _I knew you going alone was a bad idea. We should have gotten you a Lifeline,_ " the young man mumbled over the line.

"Listen, this is not one of those moments. I am perfectly sane!" Jack debated.

" _I beg to differ._ "

"Oh, you be quiet," she snapped at the brooding Hunter.

" _Me? What did I do?_ " Bones suddenly uttered over the comms.

"No, not you. I mean him. The talking zombie."

" _Uh-huh. Jack. You just told me an infected spoke to you._ "

"Yes, I'm making it much worse than how it sounded in my head. Especially with my case," she droned. "But I'm telling the truth. Freakoid can talk to me."

" _Hey. Why am I being called Freakoid?_ " Ok, dumb question for Kyle to think of but that nickname felt a little unnecessary.

"You see him on the map. He's right here with me and he can say one word over the comms."

" _Wait a minute. Is this Hunter not even tied up?!_ "

"He already tore off the binds, Bones."

" _Kill it before it kills you!_ "

" _Ok, now that's hurtful,_ " Crane mumbled.

"Now that would be the logical thing to do. If he didn't have such a riveting personality," she chided, wheeling away so she could whisper softly, "And he's a big sordid whiner."

" _I heard that._ "

The brunette ignored him.

" _O-K. So basically, you have a domesticated killing machine in the same room with you._ "

"That can talk," Jack emphasized. "And he can do it telepathically too." She turned back to the Hunter. "You have no qualms if I tell him that, do you?"

Freakoid was about to speak-

"No? Good."

He slouched back defeatedly. " _Fuck you too, lady._ " _  
_

" _Right. Ok. Jack, you've had a few rough days._ " Oh, god. This talk. And the fact that Jack was getting it from a person a decade younger than her was an insult - it particularly made her roll her eyes back. " _And you've shown you can do things on your own. But not when you still have that condition of yours. You need Rav backup. Not all the way from the Outskirts._ **_With you._ ** _In person._ "

"Alright. Then send a Ranger to my location. They'll see the proof." Freakoid's eyes bugged out wide. He clearly didn't like this. But a lock-on from the woman stopped him from even trying to tip-toe. "And if you run, Freakoid, I'm coming after you."

Crane murmured quietly to himself. He actually believed her.

"Hey," she then snapped. "Why don't you speak right now if you don't want anyone else learning about you?"

No budge. Freakoid simply folded his arms with satisfaction.

"You bloody fucking bastard."

" _And now she's playing with the zombie… Ok. Just head back to the Junction and rest for the day. We don't need to do this project anymore._ "

She muffled down a loud groan. "Both of you are not making this any easier on me."

" _Easier? Do you hear yourself?_ " Bones asked. " _The chances of an infected talking are zero. Some of these zombies had their cords ripped out by other zombies. Before they were turned!_ "

"Well, looks like I hit the jackpot on this one," she uttered in hopes the conversation would go her way.

" _Jack, all they can do is just "grrrrrr!". They're too_ **_stupid_ ** _to have any vocabulary. This zombie is_ **_not_ ** _capable of that too. Or any rational thinking._ "

The show was nice at the beginning but the more Crane listened in to the other voice, the more _irritated_ he grew. He gave a pass earlier in the conversation just for the sake of watching this woman lose her dignity but now this far in, his nerves were stuck.

And this know-it-all loudmouth kept on going with his droning.

"Uh, Bones?"

" _No. This time, you're listening to me. The infected are nothing more than rotting, walking piles of flesh without a minuscule number of brain cells left inside their skulls. That's_ **_fact._** "

Jack had sensed how heavy the room had become. It was only then that she peered back to see the Hunter now up and personal to her. His horrid face had darkened - just as terrifying as the very beasts that chased her last night. It bored into her - no, towards the voice over the comms.

" _Right now, you're hallucinating and that's already something to be concerned about. But hey, if you're so convinced that this one's different, then alright. We'll get him a collar and a water bowl. Just please, come back to the Outskirts so we can have you checked, Jack._ "

" _Hand it over here._ "

Jack blinked behind her shades at the surprise, then to the open palm she was given. So Freakoid finally grew a pair.

"Hang on, Bones. You've got a call."

" _What?_ " Jack immediately handed over her earpiece to Freakoid. " _Seriously, Jack. This isn't funny anymore. Vials, Biters, Volatiles, and this Hunter can't talk-_ "

"Are you sure?"

Crane said that right into the mic. Loud and clear.

There was a drop on the other end. The wise-ass guy had nearly fallen off his chair. Another quiet moment hung so tightly - good, he was having a hard time progressing what just happened.

" _W-What? Jack, was that you?_ "

"No, it's the stupid zombie talking to you."

" _Ge-ge-ge-what!_ " That completely took the guy's tongue. Crane could hear the panicked mutters as if this Bones person was trying to speak. " _Holy shit. Holy shit! H-How?_ "

He tossed back the earpiece to Jack with a fit and went back to his corner to mope. He wasn't in any mood to explain - even if he had some idea himself.

"Told ya," Jack said proudly into the earpiece.

" _W-Wha...b-but-but-_ "

"Yes, Bones. It's a lot to digest. But we might as well get up to speed on this one." She glanced back at Crane. "If an infected can regain his senses back, then something is really up with this virus. Maybe it's also the key to reversing it."

" _Um...give - just give me five minutes._ "

"I'll give you thirty seconds."

" _What?! But, but, you don't just shake it off like that!_ "

"And what? We've already gotten used to everything else back home. This is just like that."

" _Geez, man… Ok, ok. Thinking cap on. Um, m-maybe the virus has some...capabilities in reforming brain cells. B-But even then, a brain dead by the virus, then revived, it wouldn't guarantee any sense of personality back. It's not like a coma situation from those soaps and with tremendous brain healing power! Unless he created his own ego._ "

"So it heals the host's mind? Here I thought it was because of my punches that knocked some sense into him."

" _Same,_ " Freakoid absently grimaced. The healing one sounded too far-fetched to him. The punches were more reasonable.

" _This changes everything! Forget about the samples. You need to bring him here! Run all the tests on him._ " There was a sudden pause. " _Oh my gaaawk,_ " the young lad grumbled loudly through hands over his mouth. " _That is the stupidest idea I could ever say in my entire life._ "

"Actually, it might be your most brilliant one yet." She then stopped her chippiness, already sensing the disapproval inside the room. "But...I don't think he'll like that."

How true that was to Crane as he averted his eyes away and shrunk more in his spot. Maybe there was some truth behind the woman 'reading' into him. Even if a face was warped and distorted by the virus, unable to give any sort of expression other than a primal one, the body language spoke volumes.

Tests. Which meant being a lab rat. Kyle could only imagine: being strapped down, treated like an animal. Pins and needles all the way.

Maybe he should let it happen. It was a fitting punishment for the likes of him, he thought. If only he could stop feeling...afraid.

He didn't notice the brunette seeing that in him. It was a normal, 'human' reaction. And it was what scratched at her sympathy. Rather strange - the idea of pity for the dead was natural, the idea to put an infected back down out of mercy was fair and just. They were gone in the head.

Jack knew that all too well. This time, it was different and a little difficult. She met someone who had crossed the river and came back with his humanity. It was unheard. Kooky. But she had to question herself: did she have the right to treat him like the Biters? Because right in the room, he looked like a pitiful cat having escaped from the rain. And she was a dog person herself.

" _Oh, c'mooon. He has that level of self-conscience? This is annoying! Just lie to him or something-_ "

"He can hear you." Jack pointed and out came a long-winded frustrated groan on the other end. "I'm not gonna force him to the Outskirts."

That surprised Freakoid. Or was she trying to con him? Make him think the conversation was going one way when she meant another?

" _Fine. Fine… Yeah, I did sound cruel there. Sorry. To him, I mean. How would we feel if we were being poked around like in those mad scientist movies? And I should know._ "

"We're all desperate, Bones," Jack said understandably. "Only natural."

" _Yeah, and we're getting real close too,_ " he heaved a deep sigh. " _Alright. Forget what I said earlier._ "

"And the Ravs will shoot him on sight if I bring him over."

" _Right. Good point._ _But he's still a special case. Never heard of a zombie becoming sane again-_ "

" _I'm not the only one._ " Jack wheeled over to Freakoid. " _...But she's dead._ "

Ok, that was good to hear. She needed one voice in her head, not a billion. "He just said he's not the first."

" _Wait. There's more?!_ " Bones shrieked.

"Was," Jack corrected him, hearing a sigh of relief from the other end. "But that means there's some kind of common denominator. Maybe that rumor the others were looking into isn't as far-fetched as we thought."

" _Um...yeah, that's another good point…_ " He weakly laughed, still not over the idea there could have been more. " _So if there aren't any infected like him...what should we do?_ "

In the end, Jack could only come to one conclusion. "I'll look for another Candidate. If I found one like him, I can find another. Get those blood samples to you."

It was a suggestion the Hunter never expected to hear from...frankly, her. In fact, it was almost too good to be true. By now, Kyle should have been gagged, tied up and taken to this Ravs base. Instead, he was being given his space. A Special zombie.

Seriously, wasn't she making a big deal about his condition being important and the entirety of Harran and Scanderoon needed a cure?

" _Yeah._ " Her companion had that small hint of disappointment in his voice, but he didn't disagree with her proposition. " _Yeah. I guess so. Same plan as usual._ "

"Same plan as usual," she repeated with her cheery tone. "Asem's gonna want to hear about this anyway. And you all can rest assured that I'm _fine_. Seriously. You yapping away like that. She'd have sent the calvary if she heard you."

" _Uhhh...yeah. About that?_ "

"What?"

" _Asem already sent Ender and Riza over to the Coast._ "

The day just seemed to be adding new things the ex-kickboxer never asked for. Her entire body struggled - her venting sealed tight from exploding but manifested through her arms wanting to throttle something. Because that was a sentence Jack didn't want to hear. At all.

"But of course. She did."

"Hey _, you went off the comms. We got worried._ "

How different the atmosphere changed to Kyle. Surrounded by death and destruction outside, the air inside turned to something he had seen between work colleagues. Office 'humor'. It simply broke down the mold.

"I turned off the comms because you all _are_ worrywarts. Her the most out of everyone!"

" _What do you expect? We're in this pandemic! Look, they should be there by tomorrow._ "

"Call them and send them back."

" _I can't. It's Asem's final word. And she's not gonna listen to you._ "

"She's gonna have to. Scanderoon's a giant hotspot. The Coast is crawling with infected, probably more than Harran. And they can't get here safely without a boat-"

" _Actually, they're gonna take the Tunnels._ "

"Oh, how bloody wonderful! That route," Jack uttered. "Send them back!"

" _I don't like this anymore than you do, Jack. But you know how those two work. And it's Ender. He knows how to avoid the infected._ "

"It's not just this outbreak, Bones. It's the GRE too." She heaved a sigh. "It wasn't my first run-in with them today. Yesterday, me and a kid from the Junction ran into two GRE thugs. Bones, they were ordered to shoot us."

The air took a turn, thick and heavy with that bit of news dropped down. Even to Crane, that was serious.

Things had escalated for this city but to what level? What were their plans that they were gunning down pedestrians? That worried him.

" _Shit._ " The pause from the woman's companion showed he too was digesting the severity of the situation. " _You guys alright?_ "

"We're fine. But I dunno how far the GRE will go if they're taking down survivors like that. They don't care if we're infected or not. That's why I don't want you sending any droppers here."

" _Yeah but-_ "

"No buts. The Ravs lay low and quiet. That's how you guys operate. Not putting themselves out in the open-"

" _Jack._ "

Jack had been pacing about in the small room, almost completely forgetting that she shared the same space as a Hunter. But the stern voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hello to you too, Asem," she greeted with a chirpy tone. "How long have you been standing in the radio room?"

" _Long enough to hear that Hunter talk. And learn about Scanderoon's situation._ "

Jack heard the Freakoid groan with a mumble, " _More of you?_ ". But she ignored him.

"Ah-ha! That makes two people who heard him. I'm not crazy," she victoriously boasted.

" _I've never questioned your judgement, Jack. You know that._ "

"Good to hear that, love. Now call off your fleet."

" _After what you've told us, I'm afraid you'll need all the help you can get._ "

At the very least, Crane could understand the structure behind this group. The woman on the line - she was held with high praise by the two on the line. Maybe the leader no doubt. And this group had a system.

One the brawler didn't fully agree on.

"I do not want a runner to be killed by a GRE or a zombie. On my watch. We agreed that this mission is mine alone."

" _I did agree. But you ended up in Scanderoon instead. And the GRE are no joke to be trifled with. Whatever they are doing, they are taking actions in both cities now._ "

"Of course. Either they're going rogue after their whole disbandment-"

" _Or the authorities have sent them to clean up the problem,_ " their leader finished the sentence. The same kind of thinking Crane had. It did seem like the news about GRE had spread around.

But he had an unsettling feeling for some reason.

" _Wait, would GRE be allowed to go gung-ho?_ " It was the young man's turn to ask. " _That's gotta bring out more flags right there._ "

"Agree with Bones there," the woman in red added. "I can see the headlines: _Second biggest fuckup of the century by the GRE themselves_."

" _Perhaps. But it goes to show that the Ministry of Defense is desperate. They've lost a second city. But they haven't bomb it down yet._ "

" _Because it would look bad on them like what they nearly tried to do to Harran?_ " Bones timidly suggested.

" _Because there is something in both cities they need. And they are sending the GRE to find it._ "

" _The research._ "

It came out of Crane bluntly. He had been to intuned with the conversation, he hadn't realized he thought that out or that he even tightened his claws.

He underestimated their impatience. The one bargaining chip he had been betting on to keep Harran from being turned to smithereens - had it outlived its use? They wanted Dr. Zere's research and now they were sending in GRE to find it on foot, even when he, himself, threatened that one politician, a suit from the Ministry of Defense, that the research stayed in Harran.

He never imagined that this was how they would take it to the next level. He thought they had more time.

"What did you say?"

His body twitched when he saw the woman glance back, the earpiece off her ear.

" _Nothing,_ " he lied.

It worried Kyle that the lady took longer to let it pass. Did he screw it up somehow?

" _Jack,_ " the other female voice uttered, distracting the woman back to the comms. " _I said they are looking for something._ "

"Oh. I didn't mean you. I meant-" Jack stopped herself. It wasn't going to help her case. "Nevermind."

" _The fact remains: they're willing to take any resort for whatever they're looking for_. _And it's only a matter of time. We're all against the clock._ "

"You really know how to make a girl feel pressured on stage," Jack sang sarcastically but with annoyance.

" _Which is why we have to hurry on both this project and contacting the Tower again. Their cure is the only answer we have left._ "

" _Just how much-_ " Crane stopped himself, spotting the woman glancing over her shoulder. "Ahem," he fakely cleared his voice.

Her hidden gaze bore deep into him, eyeing for another hint but gradually, she focused on the call. "Duly noted. Get the blood samples. Get to the Tower. Find the cure ASAP. Don't worry. I got this."

" _No. Your priority right now is Bones' research._ "

"I'm sorry?" Her frown squeezed even thinner. "I can still test it in Harran."

" _Yes. If you haven't crashed at the Coast. With the GRE running in both cities, it'd be too dangerous for you to traverse alone. You and your secret weapon are too important for this project_." Jack knew that all too well, prompting her to gaze down at the armband - hiding a little secret underneath it.

"That isn't going to stop me."

" _It's an order, Jack. You left the Outskirts without a Lifeline because I believed you would be fine. But everything has changed. So I'm sending Ender and Riza._ "

Jack was about to protest.

" _To aid you. That's it. They get in, they get out. And they won't get involved with Bones' pet project._ "

"I assume that's the tradeoff?"

" _It's the only tradeoff,_ " their boss stated rigidly.

"You make this so bloody impossible," she grumbled. "Fine. But the first sign of trouble they get into, I'm sending them back."

" _Unless you find someone who can be your Lifeline._ "

"Which is probably never."

" _Then you and those two are staying in Scanderoon._ " Final word. There was nothing more Jack could say against that. " _And because we know how anxious you get when it involves family, I'm sending a scout group to the Tower._ "

"Anxious? Me? Pft. It's Harris. He's fine. Everyone at the Tower are _fine_. Tell her, Bones. What you told me. They even have their own hero over there, saving the day and all. This...Crane guy."

Ooooh, this was getting too deep. Awkward. The whole shebang. This group even knew about _him!_ The irony drilled right through Crane's pathetic self like a backstab. A hero - he was none of that, just a fraud and a freak. What would make all of this worse was if the Ravs found out who their so-called candidate really was.

He peered at the balcony door behind him. Just a gap open. If he crept quietly, he could escape without being noticed.

" _Um…_ " the young lad hung worriedly. " _That's what they told me._ "

" _When was this?_ " the leader asked.

" _Three, four weeks ago, I think?_ "

" _And when was the last time we heard from them?_ "

Bones had no choice but to answer. " _...A week ago. Before Jack's recovery._ "

That bomb dropped got the woman fidgety in her step. Even on Crane. The fact that a second group were trying to establish contact with the Tower irked him but that worry swelled up once he realized how long that disconnection has been. Even the woman's posture reflected that anguish.

So she was injured before. Sounded serious, he thought. From everything he gathered so far, something big must have happened over at the Outskirts. Enough that they lost word with the Tower.

He wanted to buy the woman's false sense of assurance. That everyone in the Tower was fine.

They had to be.

" _Talo will be the lead on this one._ "

"Talo," Jack repeated. "Your second-in-command? You're sure that's a good idea?"

" _I'll be fine on my own for a few days. I wouldn't have chosen him if I didn't think he could handle it. He'll find them,_ " Asem pointed. " _So focus on the blood samples and your life. Everything else is secondary._ "

And as quick as ever, Jack kicked away the feeling of worry. "You know it's not in my nature to turn an eye away from someone in need, Asem," she droned.

" _I know. We'll keep you in the loop,_ " Asem replied. " _Besides you already have your hands full._ "

Jack took a while to click. "Whoa, wait a minute." She jabbed a thumb at him. "It's already creepy enough listening to him and you want me to stick around? With Freakoid here?"

" _Hey, I don't like this either,_ " Freakoid complained.

" _I want to know exactly how advanced this 'sentient' Hunter is. And I imagine he's not going to be as open to us as he has been to you._ "

"Of course. Took a lot of convincing to not kill me again."

" _So that...that hickey was a damn trick,_ " he added. Kyle even struggled to find the right word.

The expression she gave to Crane said it all: "well, duh." And her rolling the eyes kinda boiled him a little.

" _You're giving him a chance to listen. And he has shown to take it. That tells us there's a lot more that we don't know about this infection. And...this request is to confirm a notion of mine._ "

"Sounds like you have an idea what he is, Asem. Like to offer?"

" _Not right now. You might call me crazy_ ," the leader droned dryly, a drawback to Jack's earlier conundrum. " _He might give us answers we didn't think for. So we'll give him his space. You observe him. See just how far he'll go._ "

"As in the killing part or the 'sentient' part?"

" _Hey,_ " the Hunter thought-whined.

" _That will be on you. You decide if he's a threat or not._ "

It was an agreement the brawler clearly was opened to, with a light "hm". Damn this woman and her whole group. What space? She was gonna murder him on the off-chance he'd attack her, Crane thought angrily.

" _Maybe he can prove to be a great help to us."_

"He won't be replacing me if he does, will he?"

" _You want me to? Because I fucking can._ " Again, Freakoid's taunt was ignored.

" _No one can replace you,_ " her boss reassured her with a tiny, almost inaudible laugh. " _And, Jack? Be careful out there._ "

"Always will."

End of the conversation. It left Jack in a quiet fit. This was the waiting game - something she didn't like in her style. But patience was a virtue sometimes and work made a good distraction.

However, Freakoid didn't like the idea of patience. Waiting meant people were dying.

Crane laid down the facts in his head. The Tower was quiet. No, they probably wouldn't be so vocal to another group unlike there was a reason. Trust was a fragile thing in these times.

But the entire conversation he listened couldn't have been a facade. It was a natural banter. These outsiders knew the Tower like they were the next-door neighbour. Recent? Or before Kyle dropped down into Harran? He'd have to ask Brecken for the answer.

Which was never. Not in his state. Regardless, something has happened. Something that has made this second group decide to reconnect with the Tower.

Enough reason for Crane to go back. Enough to stop being scared of his own problems.

"And where do you think you're going?"

He was about the take the balcony route when that sly voice stopped him. She wheeled around brazenly to catch him in the act. The woman in red was mighty dangerous to him right now and it wasn't just her skills.

" _It's none of your business._ "

"It is when you're a talking Hunter. I got my orders, and that's keeping an eye on you."

The more he listened to her, the more _provoked_ he felt - more so than that chatterbox on the line. She was one of _those_ kind of people. The smug, prideful kind who couldn't shut up. Even if one were to tell them to, she would keep yapping.

" _Good luck with that._ " He'd be gone and far away from this crazy-

"You know you're being tracked, right?"

He groaned. Loud. Angry. He hadn't forgotten about that. It didn't help how confident the red-hooded lady behind him was - there was nowhere to hide from the Ravs' _eyes_.

"I'm gonna follow you wherever you go. I'm sure you've seen how well that chase was."

" _Oh, you were really catching up,_ " he mocked. The amount of amateur mistakes she did would put pro runners to shame. " _I'm surprised you haven't turned up dead this far._ "

"What can I say. I'm gifted."

" _Suuure. Don't you have a job to do? Whatever this little project of yours is._ "

"It also includes you. Orders are orders," she droned. It was so uncannily easy for her to brush off the fact she was talking to a monster. Or maybe it was to keep going to be less afraid of the reality.

" _Orders. Right. Basically someone's lap dog,_ " he mocked.

"I'd like to call myself the underdog. Sounds nicer."

" _Yeah. This isn't working for me. So I'm gonna go._ "

"Excuse me. One minute ago, you were pleading for help. Well, you're in luck. The Ravs at your services."

It was a grand presentation she set up, arms waved outwards and a courteous bow. Kyle could see it alright - she loved the spotlight.

" _I think I have better luck with a Demolisher than with you guys. And I'll let him bulldoze me down._ "

"Harsh," the brunette blurted. "At least I'm offering."

" _Right. Offering. I know well enough that getting help means being asked for something in return._ "

"Tough crowd," she hummed. "Had trust issues in the past?"

A lot. Enough he could write a book. But Crane wasn't going to give the liberty to satisfy her curiosity with any answer.

"Wow. How shy can you get?" the woman uttered. "If I had known you'd be this hung over with that little smack, I wouldn't have done it."

" _I am not-! Nobody in their right fucking mind would bite someone with the Harran virus!_ "

"Neuro-linguistic programming. Which honestly, I didn't think it would work on a infected."

" _Mind control. Great. I feel so much better._ "

"Hm. Not brainwashing. Just the power of suggestion." Geezus, this woman wanted the last word. It was like bashing his own head to a brick wall and it _still_ wouldn't fall. "It helps break down the barriers. Keep people on the same page."

" _You mean making it easier for people to change their mind._ "

"If it stops you from biting my face off, then it works, Shy Guy."

" _Sure. Look. You're very busy. I can see that. So let's forget we ever met, ok?_ "

"Really?"

Yeah, Crane could see how dumb that request was. He'd particularly laid bare to her. As the woman said, she couldn't pretend like he didn't exist.

"Alright. What exactly is wrong? You've given help and now you don't want it."

" _No offense, lady. It's…_ " Kyle fell short - the truth was it was the lady. She was the problem. But that sounded rather offensive in his head. " _The whole infected deal. Just because I'm lucid now, doesn't mean I could hurt you._ "

"Now that's a lie if I ever heard one. Just say you have a problem with me, Freakoid."

Damn. Not going to be easy with this one.

" _Listen… As much as this has been...insightful,_ " Crane wasn't too sure if that was the best word to choose but a nod from the lady seemed to assure it was. " _You can't help me._ "

"That's a big assumption. You haven't even let me try."

" _No, you literally can't. You're stuck here._ " A sting to his plan but it wasn't something uncommon. Crane had long learned to bite his tongue and take what he could get. "... _And I can't stay in this city. I don't want to hurt anyone._ "

Again, he reminded himself. Two days. He had taken lives out of choice but nearly took a few without - the young runner, the lady. Even a grimmer thought that the feral beast in him had done more than brought the fall of Scanderoon drove a spike in his guilt.

"So you're heading to Harran then?"

Crane flinched. And that response was a yes to her.

"That's the next best place for an infected like you to go… And from the looks of it… I'd say you came from there."

He was right on the money that there was more to this woman in red and it actually frightened him. She wasn't the frail, terrified survivor he thought she would be. She was bad news. The probing for the right answers, the 'power of suggestion' - her tongue was sharp and silver. One wrong move and Crane would be hanging off her arm.

What was most dangerous was her indirect connection to the Tower.

"Were you someone from the Slums?" the lady pushed.

If she was going to follow him, then she'd be led to the Tower. The Ravs were still an absolute mystery to Crane - moreover a talkative lady like her could spill the beans for him.

He could see it, alright. Her yelling, "Hey, guys. Your so-called hero, Crane? Yeah, he's turned into a freak of nature!"

Definitely going to have to cut ties with her somehow. Whatever that connection was, he didn't have any reason to learn about it. And no one from the Tower could know what happened to him.

He had to lie.

" _I… I don't know. I-I don't remember._ "

"You don't remember or you don't want to remember?"

The latter but he stuck to his act. " _I don't know who I am. What my name is. Everything._ " That was the best lie he could come up.

"Selective amnesia. Guess that would be a problem for someone coming back from the dead."

" _Yeah. It's already hard enough figuring out what I am._ "

"And you think you'll find your answers in Harran?"

" _Yes. Maybe._ " The first answer came across as a demand to stop probing Kyle for more info. The second - he wasn't positive that Harran would have those answers. " _And I don't need a babysitter._ "

The hotel's balcony door was shielded with curtains. In his frustration, Crane yanked one sheet open-

"Grmph!" The sunburn got to him immediately that he scrambled back into the shadows. Fuck sunlight! How long before the day was over?

Watching the Hunter cower down with the smell of burning flesh was a rather pitiful sight to Jack. Even for an infected, it was a little sad.

How on Earth did he manage to live this long?

"Look. Nobody in Scanderoon can get to Harran. Unless it's by boat. Roads all blocked off and we're surrounded by water and mountains."

" _I can find my way back,_ " he scoffed. " _I'll swim all the way if I have to._ "

"I'm pretty sure the infected can drown," she pointed, receiving a grumpy groan from him. "Plus, my friends just said there's GRE over there. If they find out you're a sentient zombie, they're gonna wanna catch you, mate."

" _More reason to bash them down if they try. I'm prepared._ " Freakoid then pulled on the sheet again, off its rings. He had a little satisfaction in his eyes - good, these were blackout sheets.

"You won't be able to survive on your lonesome. And like this."

"Hah!" The scary laugh out from the Hunter's voice box did give Jack a little jump. She had heard Biters and Virals say a word but a Special was another thing entirely. " _I've been on my own before. I know what I'm doing._ "

"Yeah, but are you going to get another chance that someone will listen to you?"

" _Why do you care?_ " he snapped, turning his attention to her.

"About you? I don't. I have every right to kill you if you decide to eat me, Freakoid. But you want answers. So do I. Our goals are the same. That 'asking for help' for 'something in return'? You're not wrong. As it stands, you need the Ravs to solve this mystery. And we need you to help us solve it."

" _Oh really?_ " He was now up close to her again, standing as straight as his body could allow him with a spiteful vibe seeping from his mind. " _So it's either your group or face the GRE._ "

"It's a lot better than the GRE, mate."

" _Better. Your people made it very clear they want to open my body up._ "

"Ok, now you're exaggerating-"

"How am I fucking exaggerating?!" he hollered, now using his real voice and not his inner voice. "I don't know a damn thing about you. Or this Ravs group. And you go around boasting that you're searching for a cure?"

"Because someone has to do it. You heard our boss. We're against the clock-"

"And that is the point! We're already past the deadline. Look at me!" His voice was shaking loudly as he presented himself to her - this horrid, mutated body. "This is what a fucking cure did to me! Who's to say this lead you guys have won't be some dead end just like what the Faceless did?!"

The woman hunched up an eyebrow. It was clear that she had never idea what he was talking about. But she remained firm in place.

Let him spill out the beans.

"Is this what you are looking for? Because here, you have it! There is no cure! We're all gonna become like this! So why don't you keep your heroic crusade to yourself and stop dragging others in? Because you're not helping anyone!"

Stop following a dream. Stop becoming like him. Those were all the things he wanted to tell her. She'd only end up like him!

"I'm not gonna make that same mistake again."

She was quiet, taking his outburst all in as he breathed heavily. Let her soak it all in.

"...So you're gonna sulk and doing nothing?" she mocked softly. "Not even help us?"

Crane scoffed. Why was this woman so stubborn?! "Help you? Why should I fucking trust you?!" All of his anger, his vent from way back had finally spewed out. Laid waste to her.

"The feeling's mutual."

The statement was said in such an unfazed demeanor, it surprised Crane. And the next one took it even further.

"Because I don't know who you were. Or what you're gonna become."

That did him in. The calm, collected response left him with a distaste in his mouth.

What he was going to become…

He balled up his claws. Not hands, claws. The thought had never crossed his mind until she said it right to his face - he had just regained back his humanity so what was the next step? What else could he change into? Be like the Mother, a deluded infected with a twisted agenda to kill off everyone in Harran? Or something far worse?

He swallowed. Finally, Crane realized there was no salvation for him. No hopes of returning back to being a human.

Why did he think this brunette, or any other person, could help a monster like him? He shouldn't have even tried.

"I should have never saved you."

It came out of him before he knew it. He was tired of himself, of everything and this woman being an asshole to him. But once he realized his mistake, the damage seemed to have been done. Her expression, even if hidden by her shades, told him the comment hit her in a way. That pinched at his guilt.

Then she smirked.

Just like that.

"Oh, you're gonna be an interesting character, mate. I can tell."

" _What?_ "

She gave a nod of the head, like a sailor's farewell. "Alright, then. Thanks for the leads you've given me," she spoke, looking very relaxed against the wall. "Guess I'll be seeing you around."

"Wha..." Did this woman hear anything from him?! " _Are you out of your damn mind?! Leads?! What leads?!_ "

Crane couldn't stay in control, both thought and voice spurred out as one. It was like dealing with a troublesome neighbor with an attitude or passenger on the train. He literally wanted to shake her down.

" _What is with your fucking problem?!_ " he yelled.

"My problem?" she hummed. Daringly, she closed the space between them, enjoying the Hunter's fit. "Why don't you go and find out?"

It was a taunt. A lure. A mystery waiting to be opened up but she had every bit of confidence that he would never find those secrets.

He didn't want to. He didn't want to care about her anymore. Let her go find those vials and get herself killed. Crane was done.

His concern was getting back to Harran.

" _Forget this... I'm leaving._ "

"Alright," she casually said.

It stopped him. No, no! _It's her damn persuasion!_ " _And you aren't going to follow me._ "

"Wouldn't dream of it."

" _Good!_ "

"Glad we've come to an agreement, Freakoid." Her beam stayed annoyingly strong it mocked him.

" _Oh. For fuck sake!_ " It was insufferable! She really wanted to have the last statement! Without a second thought or a remark, he was out the window, the curtain being his shield. Across the roofs before eventually, he was gone.

Jack was alone. No more voice in her head - only the welcoming yet eerie silence in the room.

It was an interesting event, she admitted to herself. Not quite what she expected from start to end but she would be lying to herself if she didn't find it a little enjoyable.

And yet...it was strange.

"Five times. Five times and you haven't died from my secret weapon."

She really did agree with Bones and Asem: there was something strange about this one infected. But unlike the Grad's anticipation over a new yet frightening discovery and their boss's inquisitive interest, Jack had a foreboding feeling in her stomach. The difference why? Because they hadn't seen the things she had with this one infected.

That 'hickey' Freakoid was making a fuss about - he should have dropped dead.

But he didn't. Again.

"Just what are you?"

* * *

A/N: 17/11/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. This chapter was unexpected in its revamping. One being it was more dialogue and less action, something I thought readers might not be fond of. So don't hesitate to call out if you think it's too much blabbering. But it is a lot better on the interactions between Jack and Crane (in more ways than one ahem).

*I've also put in the disclaimer. Sometimes actions in a lot of fiction, whether original or fan, can be taken out of context and I felt that a disclaimer was in order. Quite frankly, I really don't see such a shipping between...well, these two. More like whether or not they'll likely kill each other. If it was... maybe fifteen years, then maybe. Just a maybe. And that's if these two would live that long enough to hold a relationship. Regardless, there will not be any sort of protagonist shipping in the Descent. Plus, Jack's an asshole.

Moreover, imo, a shipping always depends on two characters' interactions and development between them. And it's something I rarely do at all - mostly because it's either "nah, wouldn't work" in my head or that I've seen readers dislike oc shipping. A lot. So it really takes a lot of convincing to me if something works between two characters. The problem regardless is some people can take way too far so I'm just putting this disclaimer down, in case.

I also would like to inform you all, I have a tumblr blog for this fanfic. Because AO3 and FFN doesn't really have a way to notify which chapter has been revamp unless it's new, I am using this blog as the notification. Any major updates, I will announce it over in the blog only. Please follow there for any of those chapter announcements and even little things I have in plan for it. Link: dlthedescent tumblr (because FFN doesn't like links)

I also want to thank Cian from the Dying Light fan discord group for helping me come up with a name for a character: Masha the Cannon, a Russian kickboxer mentioned in Chapter One. Thank you very much for the names!

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this revamped chapter. Please review and feel free to give constructive criticism.

PS. I find it amusing Jack called Crane fat. Ahaha.


	8. SEVEN: RISE

**DISCLAIMER*: Kyle Crane is not going to evolve physically. Not in this fic, nowhere in this fic, not ever will I write that for a fetish. Refer to the end author's notes regarding this disclaimer.**

* * *

Chapter Summary

 **\- BACK TO SQUARE ONE**

 _That woman couldn't help me. Nobody in this city can. Only I can help myself… Right now, I need to get back to Harran. Somehow. I'm worried I've been away for too long… What happened to the Tower while I was gone? - Kyle_

...

 _Something's off about that infected. He should have been dead. Well, he shouldn't even talk. Or act human. It doesn't matter to me now. I can't stop thinking about what Asem said... I need to find that boat pronto. - Jack._

* * *

 **SEVEN: RISE**

* * *

At first, it was pointless. Crane had nothing, not even all of his bearings. His Companion app was long gone and he had no other means of direction. Finding a way out of Scanderoon would be as difficult as finding a way out of Harran, he thought, but he had never imagined just how barebone he was in his search. The one bit of detail where a path led into the Countryside only came to the Tower thanks to a dying one-eyed man.

However, his newfound goal gave him determination. It fueled him to bite his tongue and endure the pain. The orange sunlight managed to peek through the blackout curtain and yet, he pressed on. The burning wasn't as severely aggravating as it was this morning - a blessing to him.

He was going to the Tower, even if it'd kill him.

Back and forth, back and forth, he did look back to the hotel. But the blood-red glow never followed him. It stayed for some time until it faded away. That woman in red must have gone elsewhere. Or that he was too far away to see it.

Good. Crane hoped that would be the last of her. A lot of help she was.

It was then he spotted the clock tower from a mile away. A good vantage point to see all of the Coast.

" _Maybe I can spot something from all the way up there._ "

There was some grace to heading that direction - the tower's own shadow fell across the low buildings. Over the sentient zombie. It meant the day was coming to the end of its cycle. Another night of sheer horror for the survivors but ironically and regretfully, another night for Crane's unnatural strength to return. He even had to think to himself: on a brighter side of things, at least he wasn't going to be dragging himself around with constant sunburns.

The clock tower was peaceful inside. No, it had been disturbed. From the entrance on the ground floor and all the way up the building, Crane spotted the evidence as clear as...well, day. From the recent footprints of some runners shortcutting through, to a few stragglers standing and lying down stiff inside - too dimwitted to find the door out. At least the sun couldn't reach Kyle as he made his way up to the top.

The most significant hint he realized the moment he walked in was the silence. No tick-tock. No moving of the large gears. Someone made sure the clock wouldn't ring ever again.

" _Ok… Ok. Harran's southwest of Scanderoon. So...northeast._ " As best as he could, he stared out through a clock face - his eyes fighting with every fibre against the retracted sunlight. But true to the woman's troubling explanation, all of Scanderoon's exits were either blocked or difficult to walk through. All he saw was mountains and water for miles. No familiar trail to follow, or an easy path to cross over the rocky borders. And thanks to that woman's blabbering mouth, he was actually anxious to test a swim with this new body.

His options were very limited. Maybe he could find a manhole and use the sewage system. But where would it take him? Another city he could unwillingly mess up?

His gaze finally set towards the ocean, the city's northeast. It was there that he saw a speck of Harran, maybe even the tip of Slums poking out on the horizon. Kyle heaved out a deep sigh - out of both relief and misery. It hadn't been wiped off the face of the Earth. But it was also so close yet so far.

" _Boat…_ " he repeated. " _Only way to Harran was by boat…_ "

It sounded simple. Probably the faster and easier way to get to the Slums. And that was if the Navy wasn't out at sea...

" _No._ " He straight out scolded himself before pacing about in a bitter fit. " _Not going to go back to that woman. No fucking way._ "

Didn't matter if she might have a boat. That lady was gonna get him killed somehow. By accident, arrogance, choice or sheer stupidity. Sure, he could try to take it from her...but who was to say he wouldn't get some consequences from that attempt alone.

So he kept searching, more aggressively this time until he spotted train tracks. Trailing after them led to the city's train depot and going onwards from there was to a tunnel, driving through the mountains and heading down the direction to Harran.

" _Yeah...that's the border between Harran and Scanderoon._ "

There was some information he remembered before going to Harran. It was all in the dossiers but he briefly skimmed over. Because of the unstable terrain separating the two cities, the train system was built to overcome such problems in the '80s. People used to come and go for their own reasons - recreational, familial, business-related and so on.

Now the trains stopped. The tracks became dangerous. And the tunnel was likely to be quarantined off just like those in Harran. But if the first outbreak taught him anything, it was that the infected were persistent. They knew what crack to crawl out from. He'd surely find one.

" _Better than nothing._ "

He then took note of how far the sun had left to set down. If he made a beeline to that tunnel, he could be there by sunset.

" _Alright._ "

 _Clank!_

In Crane's renewed assurance, he stepped back only to knock into something. He had never taken to examining the clock room - other than it had been in the midst of repairs before being abandoned. The tarp divided the room up, concealing the west face.

He pulled it down and spotted the same kind of setup as the one back at the parking lot. The same table, the same maps and diagrams, just less stuff than the other spot. There wasn't any clue if this surveillance spot was left behind temporarily or permanently. However, the presence still irked Kyle.

"... _GRE was here too._ "

He grimaced. Just how active were they in this city? The unsettling feeling from that conversation wormed back into him.

His gut told him to look through the glass. Down below from where the setup was stationed, he could see the Junction. The people there weren't the wisest - they had been watched for who knew how long.

It was worrisome. Another group of refugees being screwed over by GRE. Only with probably a large squadron, with men more willing to shoot for easy pay.

He honestly wanted to help. But it was out of Crane's hands. He would if he could, for the people here and the city. Not as a freak.

The Tower. _You have to get back to the Tower._

The one shameful but helpful thing about the setup was that it wasn't entirely cleared out. If the first outbreak taught Crane anything, it was taking whatever he could use. Being resourceful was a lifesaver to him before Harran and even now. There was never a time he didn't check through every basket, cupboard and pot for a piece of material.

Even on the table was a forgotten burn phone - standard for GRE contractors. And it had a Companion app. He needed it now and more than ever.

He was done prepping and halfway out of the clock tower when a noise caught his attention. Outside. It sounded like a purr of some sort.

Cautiously, Kyle took to the door and searched for the source but nothing fell under his radar. In fact, the street was eerily quiet. Stiff. Like something was waiting to pounce on him. Crane couldn't see or hear anything worth noting. What little sunlight there was, it was still preventing him from seeing hidden humans.

"Sniff." Despite his eyes and ears at their disadvantage, his nose did give him some help. Something hung tight in the air.

Potent. Strangely...enticing.

" _What's that smell?_... _It's appetizing._ "

Crane had only realized that he hadn't eaten since he 'awoke' up. Or had he already eaten someone before then? That thought left his appetite a little queasy and yet his mouth watered. He followed after the scent, down to the boundary of a large, empty marketplace - it sat before the south of the clock tower. Bigger than the one in Harran, more compact with stalls and hawker shops but void of any life.

The smell had an almost inducing grip on him. However, his cautioned reared back in, for the sound of soft material tearing and teeth chomping down broke the silence. The origin was a feeding frenzy for two regular infected and a Viral.

No matter how alluring the smell was, Crane had the decency not to accept the invitation. The feeders even made it clear they didn't want him to join at the table. However, their meal was rather suspicious-looking. It wasn't the body of some unfortunate survivor or any sort of form that it had been a victim. One infected ripped open what looked like blood-drenched plastic. Whatever they were feasting on...were bags of something.

Bait.

That word came to Crane. He took a wary step back.

 _KREF-vroom-vroom!_

The purr roared louder.

Now he understood what it was. It was an engine.

Wheels suddenly shrieked.

 _CRACK! THUD!_

Wood planks and metal shutters exploded. Out from a closed shop and a stall of rotten fruits burst a jeep. Full throttle. A buggy zoomed into the bait area and in the midst of it all, Crane caught a glimpse of a hook stabbed into one of the feeders like that into a pig's butchered meat. Time froze, enough for him to register the drivers and passengers in orange suits.

He wasn't fast enough to realize one threw a rope snare at his feet.

"Wha-Whoa! Garhmp!" Kyle yelped as his whole world turned.

His footing was lost immediately and his back hit the ground. Vertigo took a moment out of him but he gradually watched the rope at his feet get pulled.

He was gone for the ride.

"YEAAAH! We got ourselves a big one! Wear him down!"

Shit! Crane's situation just couldn't be for the better! Trying to reach for his ankles was impossible with every object and the ground knocking into him. Five, seven feet away from the moving jeep with the driver focusing on the road and the trapper cackling at the catch.

The amount of hell Crane went, with the added mockery, was enough for him to retaliate. The tendrils fired - right around the trapper's neck.

"What the-!" The places switched: the skinny criminal pulled right off as Crane launched into the backseat. The scream was short as the trapper's body rolled across the road - bones cracked and organs erupted on impact.

"Holy shit!" the driver wailed. A decision raced in his mind: should he stop? Should he jump out? Should he crash-?

 _BAM! BAM!_

The monster ducked at a shallow graze on his side. One motorcyclist had a pistol held at the moving jeep.

"Stop!" The driver yelled. It was all too much for him! His eyes were at their widest, watching the beast creep closer in the rearview mirror.

A claw grabbed the wheel, making him shriek. That was the final straw - he hopped out. The bullets luckily hit the frame or missed Kyle entirely. He gave the wheel a sharp right before the sidearm aimed at him again.

 _CRASH!_

"GAH!" The jeep powerfully knocked right into the motorcycle, tumbling like a domino downed from its falling neighbor. The rider got swallowed up whole by the disaster, his body smashed and mangled from the force of his own bike.

" _Fuck you too,_ " Kyle snapped tiredly before rocketing himself up to the roofs. He watched the ongoing jeep collided into the bay window of a clothes store. The amount of noise close to nightfall stirred up the undead crowds.

More wheels burned. Around the corner of a road, a small fleet of men in orange headed his way. Just how many were there?!

" _Give up already!_ "

Crane darted as quick as his inhuman legs could take him. But even the buggy, the jeep and motorcycles were catching up along the road. These guys didn't care if the noise would lure the wandering ferocious bystanders. The only leeway was whenever a roadblock got in their way now and there.

Alright, if they wanted to play with him, he'd give it to them! The sun was still a silver away from ducking behind the mountains. He had to last until the night.

Then he'd give these assholes serious pain.

"Get that thing off the roofs!"

Bullets flew. God! They really want to catch him! And seriously **_dead._** A drop down to a balcony garden and Crane wooshed through the open door. Out of sight.

"Two of you!" a packleader ordered from the buggy, slowing down. "Go up there and get him!"

 _CRACK!_

Shards of glass rained down on the buggy. The boss barely had enough time to react at an infected on top of the metal frame. He felt himself being pulled out of his seat by the collar and his whole world spun - stopping to two Virals jumping onto him.

"RAM IT!"

Rubber burned and suddenly, the frightened driver leapt out of the buggy. Kyle saw the bright headlights rushing over to him.

The buggy flipped over, impact delivering it over the edge of the road. But instead of tarred stone, Crane found himself hitting water beneath him. The road so happened to be near a large canal.

At first, he panicked underwater - the thought of dying by water because he was infected horrified him. But nothing happened like an immediate shock. Then the short burn in his lungs ushered him to get air.

 _Pew! Pew!_

He ducked back down from the bubbling lines around him. Swim, his mind ordered and he did so to the opposite side of the canal.

Out of the surface and onto dry land, Crane thought that would be the end of this hunt. But the vehicles picked back up, crossing over a bridge five blocks away.

He needed to get out of sight. Now! _Now!_

Adrenaline pumped throughout his muscles, a boost in his sprint as he sought for a hiding place. If only he could be invisible-

"Where did he go?!"

"Check the alleyways!"

His feet scrambled to a halt before he almost reached the other end of the alley he was in. One motorcyclist stopped right there, a kick down to the brake. Instinct drove Crane to make himself smaller behind a dumpster.

He almost had his heart shoot up his throat when the rider walked past his hiding place. Even glanced around, looking for the infected.

But the cyclist didn't even react to him

What the-? He was standing right next to him. He had to have seen him!

The seconds ticked - Crane could hear how loud his own heartbeat was. Even his canines that he had to clutch them down. The blood-orange glow in front of him taunted at him to tackle.

"Lost him." The rider turned.

There were a billion more questions Crane wanted to ask but right now, the prisoner's back was exposed.

 _Whatever. Take the chance._

It should have been a simple grab and twist of the neck. Like any other bad guy he had killed. However, at the last second, the rider glanced over his shoulder and fearfully saw the terrifying infected. Crane saw a hand reach down to the belt, a weapon concealed, but he was ready to do the deed-

Blue light suddenly blinded him.

"Gargh!" His strength depleted immediately. Legs gave way as he curled up into a ball. He should have known the bastard would pull out a UV light. Not a firearm.

"I got him!" the rider hollered, his hand shaking. "H-Hurry!"

 _Get that thing away from me!_

Crane attacked. But his talons didn't slap the UV light away. Strangely, as he fell, the hand holding the device flew off somewhere.

"GAAAH!" The rider's scream was horrible. His arm was gone. Sliced off. Bleeding profusely.

The opportunity gave the Special infected a chance to recover quickly. The annoying light had skidded two feet from the struggling thug but Crane kicked it aside for good measure before climbing up onto his feet - reeling the question, 'what happened', in his head.

He then realized something was wrong with his right arm. It was bleeding too. But he felt no pain. Why-?

His stomach sank at the sight of what was possibly his ulna sticking out. The feeling gutted deeper at how horrendous the bone had turned - like it became longer, thinner, held together by mutated tendons. The unfolding of a praying mantis' blade

"Oh shit," he muttered. Another thing to be terrified of. He even worried if either the bleeding wasn't going to stop or his arm might drop off.

Then, as if listening to his desire for the foreign object to be gone, it retracted back inside his arm with flesh closing over. The blood still trickled slowly and eventually sealed up by the carapace platings on his skin - perhaps the one thing keeping his arm from snapping in that state. His arm was back to 'normal', for the most part.

An assassin's blade. Crane was still uncertain how he should feel but if anything, it was another tool for him to use. So he swallowed his fear and bolted. The rest of the rider's gang wasn't too far behind.

"H-Help me…"

"I told you this was a bad idea!"

"Ah, shaddup and keep moving!"

"What about him?"

 _BAM!_

Crane's almost shook but he kept running. Even after four men dead, these convicts were set on capturing him. Especially if it meant abandoning the weak. He heard one shout loudly to "catch that infected". Were they just brave or damn stupid?

One quick glance at the sun - it was probably another ten, fifteen minutes before dark. Just a slice of the sun at this point.

Never in his life had he ever wanted the night to fall-

Suddenly, the infected version of Jade launched at him. Screaming.

"Gah!" he gasped, stumbling down from his vision instantly blurring. Thankfully, he managed to stop himself by quickly placing his claws on his knees. Shit! What was that? It was like something took the wheel in his body and hit the brakes.

Crane gritted his teeth and shook his head. Just like that, the strange sudden vertigo went away. Like a relapse. Was he reverting? His mind losing it?

No, if that would happen, he would never return back to the Tower. The convicts might get the upper hand. Or worst, random innocent bystanders would be killed by him.

He paced his breathing as best as he could. Fight it, he could do this. He had come this far.

" _The feeling's mutual._ "

It didn't help that he was being reminded by that woman. Really, in this time and place?

" _Because I don't know who you were. Or what you're gonna become._ "

What he'd become.

The words still stung. They rocked to his core. It was those words that he realized that the entire time he had been in this body, he struggled with two sides. He wanted to stay on one coin but the whole world saw him on the other. He wanted to hide - wait out the storm - but no matter where he'd go, death would follow him.

Crane tightened his talons and rose up. One deep breath.

" _So you're going to sulk and do nothing?_ "

No more.

He was done complaining. Crane was resolved. He'd fight the world: put both sides together into one living weapon.

He had one shot to make it out alive.

 _Make it count._

"See the bastard?" the new self-appointed leader demanded.

"C'mon, man! It's almost night time!" The weakest of the group combed frightfully at his surroundings, his grip on his bike handles turning white. He wanted to leave. The ominous air simply arrested the idea that his time was counting down..

Even the ravens on the city ledges were mocking at the group with their soulless, beady eyes.

Or did they already know their outcome?

"You heard the boss. We're getting an infected or we don't go back!"

"H-Hey!"

A trembling finger, belonging to the jeep driver, pointed. Further down the street drifted the Special they had been chasing. To a few of the thugs, they noticed something was off. The thing walked and stood in the middle of the road in a strange stance. Not sluggish like the common infected, or feral like the vicious Biters.

This infected did like a normal human would do.

To the packleader and then some, they grinned. The freak was giving itself to them on a silver plate.

Four men against one monster. A _fair_ fight.

"Let's go!" The leader banged a palm on the jeep, ushering the driver to get the engine going and the other two on their bikes. The cyclists were off first before the jeep zoomed behind.

And yet, the Special didn't move.

Their weapons of choice: hook ropes, UV lamps, blunt weapons, all sorts. Like shark-catching but only that the predator was on land.

Crane sprinted forward.

First person to close the gap was one of the riders, pitching the hook rope at him. The prisoner, however, never imagined the freak of nature to grab the hook mid-throw. Or even yanked on the rope that the velocity pulled him right off his bike. Dead on impact.

One down. Three to go.

The next rider was seconds away, ready to shine the UV flashlight tied up at the headlights. Flesh burned but the hook came stabbing into the shoulder - the swing just as mighty as a batter's pitch that it knocked both the wind and him off his bike. The blue light was gone under the crash. So was the cyclist's life on the tar, headfirst inside his cracked helmet.

Halfway there.

Crane had to dodge off to the side. A moving jeep on full throttle was too dangerous for even for him to stand against. At the right moment, the packleader swung a long wrench at him.

It was still too slow a reaction. Like the hook before, the infected snatched the other end. The packleader instinctively held tight to the metal frame, losing his weapon in the progress.

"Turn around!"

One sharp turn back. A blast of the UV lights turned on as the jeep raced on. The upper hand was at their sides - the monster cowering back at the rays like a deer in headlights.

But they were wrong. The antlers came down.

Somehow, one way or another, the windshield shattered. The driver yelped at the sudden appearance of a wrench thrown with immense power. Right through the glass. He was blind for only a few seconds.

"Drive straight! Drive straight!" his leader demanded angrily and he tried. But his hesitation got the better of him. Out of nowhere, he didn't see a claw reach from his door and dragged him out into the street.

Because of that, the wheel turned right sharply, enough for the jeep to tilt and crash on its side. Sparks flew from metal against tar with a grinding sound before the machine came to a stop.

The attempt to derail the jeep nearly cost Crane his life but he fought against the UV and took the advantage. It might have been that he slowly getting used to the burn. He rose back up with a deep breath, brushing off his tiredness.

"Fucker!"

But he knew it wasn't over. Before the rollover, the leader had jumped out for safety - minus the cut on his head. Crane could see the rage, feel it too from the piercing eyes..

Last one.

"I am getting that Antizin!" he declared, unholstering a crossbow that he had on his back. "And you ain't stopping me!"

Kyle didn't get it - why the subject, Antizin, was suddenly brought up - until he noticed the hidden bandages under an orange sleeve. The glow beating inside was blood-orange, like the woman in red. Another human infected. Regardless, he didn't care, not for a total stranger or a man convicted of a crime.

There were no heroes or villains. It was live or die.

He ran. Not away but towards the packleader, sprinting with all sorts of resolve to finish this. Despite the fumbling of an arrow and the fear slowly creeping, the convict stood his ground and fired.

The first missed. The second, Crane felt a scratch on his cheek. The third hit him shoulder. But he didn't stop. He wasn't going to.

He had killed men far worse than this one person.

His left claw seemed to fire something at the packleader. Before he realized it, the crook saw something wrap around his waist. Something horrible that came straight from an alien movie. How the tables turned as he was the only one being pulled straight to the freak of nature, by a tendril.

The right balled-up claw climbed up for the punch. No, that wasn't going to happen. Not when a blade suddenly materialized on the beast's arm.

It fired. At least, he thought it did. Then he couldn't breathe. Something liquid filled up in his throat. And his head oddly tilted to the side. And his body dropped down.

Zero.

It was finished. Another deep breath before Crane yanked the arrow out of his shoulder. Barely a flinch - his need for survival numbed the pain down.

He triumphed. Like many times he had done in Harran. He glanced up to the orange sky and estimated how many more minutes of daylight was left. Five more minutes left, he guessed and walked away from the carnage.

No time for celebrations. No more surprises or distractions. Crane was going to that tunnel. Now.

He climbed up a fire escape and moved his way to his destination. At the sixth roof, however, the sound of wheels echoed throughout the faraway streets. Maybe more of these felons' friends.

Nevertheless, Kyle was prepared. He'd take them all down.

That declaration, however, fizzled out when he counted the new vehicles heading his direction. Owned indeed by bastards in orange. And one of those people had a large gun over his shoulder. It looked strangely modified but he couldn't tell what it was. A machine gun? A grenade launcher?

Didn't matter. That was a bigger squadron coming for him.

Crane slouched down in disbelief and annoyance at the sheer number. It was like there was an infinite number of crooks adding to the ones he took down. As bad and persistent as Rais' men! And they had some sort of twisted order!

"Come on." All Crane could do was groan irritatedly. Where the fuck did these convicts get these vehicles and weapons?!

His new body didn't feel the daytime lethargy, the burns less than usual. The night would take all his problems away and he could teach these jerks a lesson they'd never forget. Permanently. The sun was nowhere in sight at the horizon

Yet the horizontal slice of sunset light still tortured him.

" _Be night already!_ " That could give him the advantage he needed.

Then Crane heard it coming from behind. The sound of something fired and the whistling of something big.

Suddenly, thick crosshatched ropes covered his entire body. Arms and legs bound down. There was nothing but for him to timber down two stories high.

" _No! No!_ ** _No!_** " he thought-shouted and vocally hollered, "Omph!" on impact. He couldn't count how many times he had felt pain in all different ways. Really, the world just seemed like it was punishing him.

"It's down! It's down!"

"Gaaaah…"

The ringing took its time to cease as Kyle slowly raised his head to watch the vehicles surround him to stop. One by one, the orange suits stepped out, armed to the teeth.

"Dammit. We just lost a team to this...thing!" he heard someone yelp.

"Good."

"Good? What do you mean good?!"

"It means that tonight's show is gonna be one heck of a killer."

Show? Attraction?

"Call the Director. Tell him he's got a new main attraction. But he's gonna have to pay double for this one."

What the fuck were these people planning to do with him? Was that _why_ they had been chasing him?! But like hell was he going to find out! Crane quickly sunk his teeth down into the trap, sawing off the threads of his net. Fine! He'd let his other self help him this one time-

"I-It's cutting through the ropes!"

"Shoot it with the tranq gun!"

 _Pif!_

"Gak!" Crane felt a needle prick at his neck. He pulled the thing off to find a dart. A tranquillizer dart.

Oh shit. _No, no, no!_

His body instantly went numb. The drug was enough to knock out an elephant, even an infected-turned Crane. It became harder for him to see the prisoners towering over the weak Hunter, their smiles distorting and the color orange warping in a slurpy, sickly manner.

 _No. Let me go._ He needed to get back to the Tower.

"Alright, big guy," one of them said. "Make us filthy rich."

On the spot, he thought to himself. The woman in red sounded like a better choice to stick around. Far better than any Tom, Dick, Harry, he'd meet on the street. He honestly wished he hadn't left her.

After all, he was still a monster. The world should treat him as such.

That was the new law of nature.

The darkness eventually consumed him before he felt his body dragged away.

* * *

" _Jack. Where are you going?_ "

It had only been ten minutes since the last call.

"Nowhere," the brunette answered casually as she skidded across the rooftops. "I'm just searching for something."

" _No. I see you heading to the beach. And that...Freakoid, you called him? Is going the other direction._ "

"Oh, is he? Didn't know that."

" _Jack. You're supposed to be 'observing' him. Or...at least pretending to be friends with him._ "

"Being chumps with an infected. That's almost as crazy as hearing him speak to me telepathically. But he said he didn't want a babysitter. So that's what I'm doing."

" _Uh...did he upset you or something? This is the first time I've ever heard you get riled up._ "

"Are you implying this infected is getting under my skin?" she chuckled. "He's the one who didn't want my help. I give him fifteen minutes. Trust me. He'll come grovelling back. He's confused. Vulnerable. Aw. Adorable enough that I might adopt the stray."

" _Okkk. Whatever this 'spute is between you two, you both gotta get over it soon. The faster he gets on our side, the easier it'll be to working on a solution for this virus._ "

"You just want him to be less hostile when he comes to your lab, don't you?"

" _I...won't deny that I don't want to get torn limb from limb if he comes here. And that's_ ** _if_** _he comes here,_ " Bones quickly emphasized the point. " _But if I'm gonna have to treat him as a patient, then we gotta see eye to eye and without teeth._ "

"You two can work that out on your own."

" _Work it out, she says. Sure._ " The amount of self-doubt and dismay drenched the words, with a sound of Bones sinking into his seat.

"Come now. He particularly could make himself at home with the Ravs. He has his mind intact."

" _For how long? That's what I'm worried. He's a totally different case unlike the others and we don't even know what caused him to regain his humanity._ "

"You know, he was still, well, feral, when we first met. Think his brain starting back has anything to do with my secret weapon?"

" _Uh. I mean…_ " The hesitation hung as the young man reeled back on the question. " _It's possible. None of the test subjects managed to survive after one bite… Maybe there's a secondary capability that only works on immune infected. Or it could be a placebo effect._ "

The confidence in the words was like a chorus of notes being played, only for the last sentence to fall flat. Even the young clever Grad was struggling to come up with sound hypotheses. Jack could almost hear the gears inside his head grind, hard at work over the line.

" _I really can't say until I start doing tests. Only if he's cool with it and doesn't bite me._ "

"You shouldn't brood about it, mate. You're already infected."

" _Yes. Stop reminding me,_ " he whined. " _I just hope we can get our answers the more you test your weapon on the Biters out there._ "

"Bones. My secret weapon isn't a cure. It nearly destroyed the Ravs."

" _I know. We all know... We just didn't handle it well at the start._ "

"We couldn't have predicted how things would have gone," Jack pointed. "Chat with you tomorrow." She cut the line right there and then.

Time was running against her. With what remaining hours of daylight she had left, she needed to head back to the stoned dock she crashed days ago. A horrible idea but the decision to find the boat was already sound in her head. Worse, she had no idea how bad the boat was when she abandoned it - either it had sunk to the bottom of the sea or it was surrounded by hordes of zombies.

Yes, her fearless leader did say to stay in Scanderoon. Yes, she was ordered to work on the mission. And yes, she was told the Ravs would locate and communicate with the Tower - she didn't have any doubt her ally, Talo would fail. But the nagging feeling in her was mighty strong.

However, a job was a job. She hadn't decided on the spot to take the boat and go all the way to Harran. Nothing merited her concern to skyrocket and bolt. She had to hope that Asem's word would stay true while she would distract herself with the job.

"Alright, Caroline. Let's hope you're still intact."

The retrieval of Lenny's _Caroline_ was a set goal to help distract her. Afterwards, she could use it to maneuver about the city, thanks to the many open channels about. What better way than to travel around by boat - no blocked roads, no noisy machines and most importantly, no zombies.

Moreover, it was her only travel to book it to the Slums on the first hearing that the Tower was quiet. It was her original plan before she left the Outskirts - to get to the Tower and see her cousin. Just to be sure.

That everyone was alright. Alive. And fine.

If the scout group would come out empty, she'd drop everything and go.

"C'mon, please be there."

She exited out of the broken quarantine wall.

" ** _OH_** , blooming-!" Jack held in her strongest curses. The boat wasn't there. At all. Just the clear saltwater and the buoys in the distance. "Lenny's gonna murder me in cold blood. What am I going to do?"

As if on cue, her pocket vibrated. With a frustrated roll of her eyes, she put on the comms.

"Bones. I've already told you I'm not going after Freakoid."

" _Who's Freakoid?_ "

How untimely. It wasn't Bones' voice. "And hello to you too, young lady. What can I do for you today?"

" _Day's almost over,_ " Siv pointed. " _You should be heading to a safehouse soon._ "

"I can kill some time. Got an on-going errand to run."

" _For this Bones guy, right?_ " she pried. " _You said his name yesterday._ "

"Really shouldn't have been eavesdropping, princess."

" _Then you shouldn't have a big mouth about your contacts, old bag._ "

"Ok. I'll give you that one. Fine. He's a friend from the Outskirts. Our current radioman over there."

" _Current? What happened to your previous?_ "

"She had to quit. And Bones happened to be available at the time. Needed to get out of his lab more often."

" _Lab? He's a scientist?_ "

"Grad student. From the Harran University. Studied in...was it forensic anthropology or forensic archaeology? Dunno which one."

" _Wow. You Ravs sound really understaffed._ "

"I should say the same for the Junction."

" _Yeah. Not denying it,_ " Siv agreed. " _Is that why he's called Bones? He studies bones?_ "

"Pretty much. Learned new things every day from examining these walkers' bones."

"Wait. Isn't he, you know, gonna get the Harran Virus from touching those?"

"Of course not. It's just bones. The virus transmitted by saliva. Besides little Rose and her friends does the cleaning for him."

" _And Rose is?_ "

"Bones' assistant," she chided. "He loves that darling like family."

" _Oh. I see._ " It was such a tiny hint of relief in those lines. Jack could read it a mile away.

Ah, yes. The starting crush: always curious, always uncertain, always striving for the stars. Exploration to understand if two hearts clicked or just fizzled, regardless of complications and differences. Unfortunately, Jack had to put her foot down.

"He's a graduate. Much older than you."

" _And? I'm particularly a sophomore._ "

"Really So you're above the legal age then."

" _Yeah._ " The silence between them stung greatly. " _Ok, it's nineteen._ " Again. Jack didn't budge. She could have sworn the little princess somehow heard her foot tapping. " _...Fine. I'll turn eighteen next month! Happy?!_ "

"What is with you kids these days." Siv definitely looked nothing like the age of a college student, Jack thought.

" _Then...since you're busy. I shouldn't bother you-_ "

"Now hang on. It's no bother at all, Siv," the brunette chided. "Got something for me?"

" _Um..._ " The hesitation actually amused Jack. Even the little whisper away from the mic couldn't hide the fact the teenager had something on her mind. " _Fuck, you're not supposed to continue._ "

"What did you say?"

" _Nothing. Did you find that Hunter?_ " she spat.

Really. What was the need to change topics on a dime? Regardless, Jack let it slide and continued on with the conversation. "Oh, yes. Got more than what I bargained for."

In more ways than one. But she refrained from saying that.

" _That doesn't sound good. Should we be hunting down this thing?_ "

"Hunt down the Hunter… Naaaah. It'll be fine," she reassured. "He's not much of a threat anyway."

" _He?_ "

"Pay no heed." Jack laughed. Now it was her turn to switch topics. "One infected isn't something to worry about. We got other pressing matters. Survival, food and water, meds. But hey. At least we have Antizin-"

" _Antizin. Right._ "

There was no dressing it. Siv willingly slipped her frustration out, a _thud_ telling Jack she slouched back in her seat.

"Well, don't you have enough?"

" _Y-Yeah. Of course! We've got loads. Loaaaads of Antizin. Can even survive the Ice Age if it'd ever hit us._ "

"Hm-hm. Running zombies down with snowmobiles. That's actually not a bad pastime."

" _Throw in some skates. You could slice their limbs off when they slip on the ice._ " Siv giggled at that thought, her tension slightly loosening over the line.

But Jack didn't share her girth. The little hint the teenager had been hiding in this entire conversation was obvious. No way could Jack not notice.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?"

A fake laugh echoed from the earpiece. " _Wrong? Nothing's wrong! A-And...if you're gonna accuse me of something, then… Then don't come back here-_ "

"You might as well tell me to drop dead." The hesitation spoke volumes to the ex-kickboxer. The young teenager really had nobody at the Junction to listen, perhaps most of the time, adults told her they had it handled. "Tell me the truth. I can't do anything if you're not being honest with me."

Nothing but silence. And yet no disconnection. Good, so Siv was staying.

" _...I'm not supposed to say anything. Everyone will freak out._ "

"And that is when?" she asked. "Three days? A week later? Everyone will find out about this white lie you guys are telling yourself."

" _It's not me who lied. It's…_ " Siv fell silent.

"Mahir told you not to say anything, didn't he?"

A heavy sigh told Jack she was right on the money. The little princess had been holding onto this whole secret since this morning, maybe even longer.

" _...He and the Doc. They don't want to scare the others off…_ _But everyone's on edge here. We've not gotten any airdrops for days now._ "

"I thought you were all well-stocked on Antizin."

A groan from the other end. " _That's what Will says so we won't panic. But lately, we've been running dry. Some are even taking Antizin more often than usual._ "

The brunette hunched down her eyebrows. That little bit of information was a concern to her that Jack muttered, "More?" softly. But another deep sigh from the other end made Jack focus on the conversation.

" _It's not looking good, Jack. Some are thinking of leaving and Mahir's trying to reason with them but… Even he's getting frustrated._ "

"That bad, huh?"

" _Totally. Everyone's complaining and I'm sick and tired of it. If these GRE fucks and prisoners weren't around, things would be a little easy…_ " Jack heard a small knock, the mic shrieking a bit from the sudden movement. " _I just…dunno what we can do now._ "

Ah. This was the urgent dilemma Siv was worrying after Jack had left the Junction. A shortage on the suppressor drug was really bad news and it didn't sound good if people were using more and frequent. Another matter Jack took as a concern was how rare airdrops were in the city. This recent outbreak had to be all over the news to the whole world, authorities should be sending in support just as they did for Harran. They couldn't turn a blind eye on a second outbreak, right?

Yet...with the GRE activity lately, Jack couldn't help but believe that the authorities haven't even decided to send in airdrops.

Then Jack spotted the bay in the distance.

It was there and then she remembered something from Mahir and was struck with an idea. Probably a stupid one.

She still grinned widely at the idea.

"I'll get some Antizin."

" _What?_ "

"That's why you called me, right?"

" _Not really. I just wanted to talk to another grown-up that isn't a whiner like everyone else._ "

"Aww, I've grown on you."

She heard a scoff. " _Be serious, Jack_ ," Siv said, trying to brush it off. " _I don't have any idea where we can find Antizin._ "

"But I do. I might know how to get some."

" _How?_ " There was a wary tone in Siv's voice. " _You're not gonna raid into a GRE's pantry or something, are you?_ "

"Not the GRE's. Someone else's. A greedy bunch of blokes," she chided as she fished out an Antizin bottle from her sling bag. "I can get the Antizin. No worries."

" _...Alright. You did try to go after a Hunter… Just don't get yourself killed._ "

"I'm Mad Jack, little princess. I'm immortal," she recited the same phrase she had used so often back in her days of kickboxing. "I also need you to do me a favor in return."

" _Anything,_ " Siv said with a bit of hopeful emphasis.

"I'm looking for my boat. It's gone missing and I was wondering your runners could find it."

" _...You're leaving us?_ " There was a thick vibe of disappointment in the teenager's voice. A bit of anger.

Jack could understand why. "The Coast wasn't my final destination, Siv. I didn't even know there was a second outbreak till I crashed here."

" _Is it really that important?_ "

"...Would you leave the Junction if you've heard your family's gone missing? Or do nothing?" she asked. It was best to come out clean rather than just say nothing. She wasn't gonna do that ole cliche in drama shows - basically, _never tell the reason why_.

" _...This is about your cousin?_ " Now her little fit was gone. Just a tiny bit.

Now it was Jack's turn to sigh. "...Even if we don't see eye to eye all the time, he's still family."

" _Yeah. I can sympathize with that._ " Not entirely, that was what Jack could read - from the tone, the young teenager couldn't forgive her mom that much but now and then, she did worry about her. Blood over water.

"I'll come back. If he's alive, then good. I'll be back before you know it. And...if he's not… Guess it'll take a little while longer."

" _Why?_ "

The answer was simple. "Well. I'd need to make preparations… He's my cousin. No one deserves a half-arsed burial..."

Silence. It was an honest answer Siv never expected, to the point she felt a bit guilty for her earlier angry remark.

" _...Hey, Jack,_ " Siv suddenly called out, stopping Jack from taking off her earpiece. " _Your cousin is alive. I'm sure of it._ "

"Yeah… I hope so."

That was all Jack could say. Just a bit of deceitful hope until she saw it for herself. But it was making her hate herself even more, a simple means to delude herself and stay focus.

She was about to put her comm away when she remembered something. "Oh. One more thing. Can you ask Will what's the recent duration between shots? How long it takes before a refugee ask for their next Antizin dosage."

" _Recent duration?_ " Siv repeated. " _Sure, I guess._ "

"Good," Jack droned without giving her a chance to ask why. "Catch you later then."

" _Um, ok?_ "

Jack hung up. Ok, now the next hassle. She ran a thumb on the fragile Antizin bottle the professor gave her. Would she be able to pull this off?

Well, she'd gotta try. She had already committed to the task for Siv. For the Junction.

"Now where can I find that fighting ring?" she asked herself and got no answer. Only silence and the dull wails. "Hm. Kinda wished Freakoid didn't part ways with me."

He was like a giant hunting dog, right? Most night zombies had horrifying tremendous ways of finding and tracking down humans.

Oh, well. Jack strode back through the hole in the white stoned wall. She could try finding some clue near the prison.

She actually found it not too far from the docks.

"Shit! Ehhh-! Hey you!"

Jack was stopped by a cry for help. Upon spotting a man on top of a bus with busted wheels. And down below was a small swarm munching on something. How odd to a lone survivor outside and before nighttime, even odder for him to plead for help that it prompted Jack to point a finger at herself - did he mean her, she wondered silently.

"Yes! You! Come help me please!"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Ok." It was a quick pitch of her crowbar, taking the stragglers down. One Viral easily had its head smashed against the side of the bus.

"Oh my god. Thank you."

Jack didn't glance up to the stranger, who was relieved that his personal space was freed of terror and death. She paid attention to what the infected was feasting on. Bags of meat stacked against the bus, hand-packaged from the looks of it. Two additions had tumbled over them: if she had to guess, the two poor sobs got jumped on while delivering these...meat sacks.

And she already figured they had been allied together with the one slowly climbing down the bus. The orange jumpsuits were the tall tales.

"Thought I was a goner," the Turkish prisoner swallowed before catching his breath. A scrub, right down in the hierarchy. The kind who followed the ones tougher than him. "Fuck this. Tonight's show isn't worth it."

Show?

The man was about to hightail it-

"Now that's pretty ungrateful," Jack droned. "Just a thank you? You can do better than that."

"Wha? What do you want?"

"Tonight's 'show'. Could you give me the rundown about it?"

The chap's face darkened. There was a sliver of fear in his eyes. "H-Hey. You got it all wrong. It's just a crazy boxing tournament. Against zombies."

Her grin stretched. Well, talk about coincidence.

"Good!" Jack droned, shocking the prisoner on the spot. "I'm looking to participate in it."

"Participate?! Lady!" the prisoner grunted. "This is Alexander's stupid crew being all fucking idiots!"

"Alexander. That name's been getting around lately."

"O-Of course! He's the one running things since this outbreak started."

"Your big boss. Noted. Now about that fighting ring-"

"You're still on that?!" Nope, she wasn't as she neared closer into his space. "You'll have to come out alive after six rounds. Winner walks away with all the bets."

"Does that include Antizin?"

"Of course! It's one way of getting a bottle. But you'd have to be dense to try it. They toss you against Goons."

"Sounds like my cup of tea. Mind giving me the directions, mate?"

"Are you fucking insane?!" he hissed. "You're fighting against zombies!"

"Directions." The sharp end of the crowbar aimed right to his apple. He could feel it dig as he swallowed. "Now."

Jack meant serious business, regardless how much the man thought she was a madwoman.

"Uh...s-sure. It's that way."

She 'pretended' to look at that direction. And the prisoner bolted the other way. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, the professional fighter swiftly wheeled around and caught up - one good swing of the crowbar. It hooked his leg up and with the momentum going, she spun the prisoner midair.

"Uogh!" Down he went, all the wind knocked out. To make absolutely sure he couldn't escape, a knee pushed down on his abdomen. "P-Please! Wait! Wait!"

"Where is the latest ring match?" she sang, digging her melee weapon into his throat.

"At the shipyard, near the cruise station. B-But you need admission anyway. Or a pass from the boss."

Jack's calm smile grew wider. "Let me figure that one out." She purposely gave two pats on the cheek, like praising a dog for a good job. She then stepped back, withdrawing her weapon back with a twirl. "Now run off before night falls."

He didn't have to be told twice. The man galloped up on his feet and ran as far away as his legs could possibly take him. Almost wailing too loud a few walkers staggered after him.

"Alright, Jackie. Let's see how this goes."

* * *

The ex-kickboxer managed to reach the dockyard before the sun sank on the blue horizon. The dim rays seethed behind a small cruise ship, abandoned for an emergency docking. It wasn't long before she followed after the loud applause behind stacks of giant containers. Someone recently moved these about with the shipyard's cranes to create reinforced walls because eventually, she found the entrance to a man-made outpost.

Heavily guarded, of course. By men who were doing time for petty and dangerous crimes.

She took into consideration beforehand. Men like these couldn't be reasoned with so easily. They were free from the shackles of authority and they had gone wild like that one 1979 movie about a dystopian Australian time - which she enjoyed. So she needed to tread lightly. The two guards immediately drew their rifles at a warning level just as she waltzed towards the gates, hands in pockets.

"Evening, mates. I'm here for that fighting ring you have in the back." She pointed to the gates.

Straightforward. No sugarcoating. Of course, the two guards didn't budge. Just a few sneers from onlookers. _Yeah, yeah, laugh it all out._ She had been through this before.

One thug came forth. From the Turkish mob by the tattoos on his arms.

"Really? A woman?" he taunted. "C'mon. Why throw your life away? You should be giving us some sugar instead."

The men laughed with him.

"Why don't you come to the back with me? I can protect you from those Biters. Give you a roof, food, Antizin. What do you say-?"

"Pssh."

The thug frowned at the sudden chuckle Jack tried to keep in. Then she let it all out - the look on the bloke's face was priceless.

"Protect me? You should be protecting yourself from me, boy. Don't you know who you're dealing with?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

Now she frowned. "What is with people today? Did my name fall off the map or something? Look, mate. I don't have the bloody time to be keeping you comfort because you can't sleep without bailing your eyes out. And..." Her eyes trailed up and down. "You're clearly out of your league. I don't have all day to be dealing with a brat like you."

The insult clearly took him back. Then he angrily sized himself up, grabbing her collar. "Listen here, you fucking bitch."

She could see it in his eyes he wanted more than respect. He hadn't seen a woman for weeks.

"You better listen to me if you don't want to get hurt. How about we start over without your fucking attitude-"

Without warning, Jack lashed out with a swift knuckle punch to his side, knocking his wind out. The thug dropped down, realizing too late what had happened to him - not even the knee kick to his chin. Swiftly, he was on his back, an arm seized from behind.

"Get her off me! Argh!" The guards had their guns up but their faces said it all: they were unsure how to assert the situation. The pull on his arm tightened. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"I'm not here to be your little toy, twat. I'm here for the tournament," she demanded calmly. "So unless you're the boss of this place, I strongly suggest you shut it and let me through."

He said nothing. Just a bypasser trying to make a quick buck on the side.

"Good. Oh, and one more thing."

She shoved down hard.

 _Crack!_

"Aargh!" he screamed, feeling like a hot iron rod pierced through his shoulder. His arm went completely limp. "AAAAH! AAAAGH!"

"You should have protected yourself, boy." She shot up, leaving the prisoner to his pain. Jack was completely undaunted from a few nearby prisoners hurrying over to the injured man - not for the sake of helping him or taking revenge but stopping his screams and taking care of the stragglers.

The ex-kickboxer shone a wide grin to the guards. Like a hyena having doubled down on her prey before turning back with a cackling smile. "Can I take part in your boxing ring?"

That smile had stayed since her arrival, not a simple switch when she took the thug down. Despite the two guards looking at her as if she was preparing for a death wish, they didn't retaliate.

"...Even if we did, there's no way a woman like you is going to survive."

"A woman like me?" There was an odd tone to her droning. She was a hungry predator ready to play with her live food before the sinking of teeth.

The guard didn't get it, his rifle jittering as she neared close to him. He could see it in her expression - it didn't matter if the barrel was right at her stomach. He couldn't tear his eyes away and neither could his partner at the side.

"Mate. I've been kicking zombies and humans' arses for the longest time. You've seen my demonstration. Or do I need to demonstrate more of my skills?"

Oh, he definitely didn't need more to see. He swallowed. "You were on TV, weren't you?"

The tension suddenly widened apart, allowing him to breathe. "Finally. Someone recognized me. I don't need to go through the trouble of introducing myself and some trial by fire, do I?"

Still no budging. But the longer he delayed, the more enticed she was to walk back into his personal space.

" Now. Are you gonna let me pass?"

He could have fired. He should have. But that would bring out the freaks nearby.

"What's going on here?"

Another prisoner stepped out of the gates. Older but less brawny than the guards or the injured thug. His first glance was to the woman - the obvious question being why was a civilian here - before he turned to the thug on the floor.

"What happened to him?"

"He was blocking my way," Jack answered before the guards did, shocking them that she had honestly spoke out.

"Hm." The older prisoner didn't send an order of any sort. This one had the brains but she could tell he was playing his cards cautiously. Certainly not the boss, probably a simple supervisor. Maybe a quartermaster to the crooks. "You've gotta be looney to be coming here."

"And? What does that say about you lot pitching yourself against the infected?"

"Hmph. Don't put me in with these numbskulls," the man added. "I'm just here to make sure everything runs smoothly. They can bet their lives away for all I care." He took a hard glance at her. "And I'm not gonna convince you to think otherwise, am I, miss?"

"Just call me Mad Jack."

He was surprised. "The old kickboxer champion?"

"In the flesh."

"And you want to take part in this ring?"

"You know my reputation, right? I never turn down any fight."

The quartermaster thought on it. Debating in his mind if he should break protocol and let her true. "...You have to pay admission-"

Jack lifted up the Antizin bottle like a gambler with her chips. "Would this be enough?"

The expression in the man's stern face told her, yes it was, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He then took out a walkie-talkie.

 _Click!_

"Director. We got an outsider. She wants to take part in the fighting. Mad Jack." There was soft chatter on the line. A few nods from the quartermaster before he ended the call. "Let her through."

Her grin was wider as she pitched the small bottle to him. The guards stood back at their positions, allowing her entrance as the older prisoner led the way.

There were a couple of glances and whispers but Jack tuned them out. She focused on examining her surroundings and creating a mental map. Just a maze of containers and not a single sight of a matching ring. Tops were covered up by more boxes to make sure no infected could sneak in - or perhaps so that no one could sneak out.

Moreover, she didn't see any place for all the food, water, meds and Antizin to be stored away. Did they hide them well so that there wouldn't be any burglary? But she heard the sound of the ocean under the cheers. So this little outpost had a side right into the waters.

"What's your story?" the older man asked. "You can't just be coming in just to relive your glory days".

"I just want more Antizin. That's the honest truth."

He cast his wide black eyes back at the brunette. Did he really hear that correctly? "By betting away your only bottle?"

She simply shrugged. "You gotta break an egg to make an omelette, right?"

No chuckle out of him. "Your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you." he explained. "Checkpoint. No weapons beyond this point."

A guard at the checkpoint held out his palm to a basket beside him. Like something at the airport.

Another hassle - a dangerous decision to go weaponless in a place filled with thick-headed crooks. But rules were rules. Jack chunked away her weapon and all valuable items she carried on her but that wasn't enough.

"Hold on. Sling bag too."

She held in an annoyed sigh, even a curse. But she obliged and let the tall bloke rummage through her bags. Pouch bag included.

"Heh. What do we have here? A little pick-me-up?" He held out a small brown pill bottle. With a twitch of the cap off, he shook out two, three red capsules. "Thought you were some famous sports champion."

She smirked. "That's a rich assumption. But sure, go smoke it. Don't know what a woman's pill going to do to you."

The thug's one eye widened and his voice got stuck in his throat.

"Actually, I'm curious about the side-effects. Maybe less sex drive? Shrinkage of the-?"

"Enough," he demanded, almost unable to compose himself. As a means to shake off his displeasure, he tried to close back the bottle like it was ungodly filthy.

"I was going to say the brain."

"Just give it to her, for goodness sake," Duman ordered impatiently.

The guard gave her back the bottle, visibly uncomfortable in his stance. "Ahem. Go on right in."

"Much obliged," Jack pledged a salute to him and strolled onwards.

"Pretty redundant to be caring about these sorts of things," Duman murmured as he continued the lead.

"Perhaps. But hey, can never be too careful if I find a good night in the middle of this chaos. Doesn't hurt to prepare."

"Those don't look like contraceptive pills."

"And how would you know about women's products?"

"I have a girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Yes," he spat softly at her surprise. "She's outside the city, safe. Used to write to me every week before... all this happened."

"You're rather a sweetheart for a criminal."

"A man too bashful to do stuff for a woman doesn't deserve her time."

"She must be a wonderful woman to make you think that."

"She is… She still stuck around for this damn fool. But...she should give up on me now." Jack's pace slowed, listening to the genuine sadness in his voice. A typical smoker from the sound of his lungs and yet the worn-down knuckles showed he had been through it all. "Was supposed to leave prison last week."

A misdemeanor. If she had to guess, less than a year of jail time. The charges could be anything: assault and battery, theft, alcohol violation, etc. But he did his time willingly in hopes to see his beaut again.

Too bad the Harran virus came to Scanderoon.

"...You'll see her again. I'm sure of it."

It could have come with ill-intention. A joke. That was why Duman zipped his lips about his personal life, within his cell walls and in this epidemic. Yet a stranger managed to pull at the right strings to get him talking.

But there was an old, grateful glint in his eyes Jack managed to see. His pace suddenly became a little faster. He had a job to do - feelings could be appreciated another day.

"This way."

The scent of saltwater grew richer to her nostrils and the excited yells were getting clearer. It wasn't long before the tops disappeared to reveal the starting night sky. Up ahead was a grand view - it was probably the largest container ship she had ever seen up close, its metal hull groaning against the crashing of waves. The tournament was inside.

A third hassle. This was going to be difficult, Jack taught.

"You can turn back now," the quartermaster offered without even looking back.

"I already said, I never turn away from a fight," she started. "So what are the rules? Nothing below the belt, mister-?"

"Duman. Rules are simple. You can do whatever you want with your opponent. Just beat all six rounds and you got yourself the trophy."

"No breaks in between fights?"

"Hmph. You can get a break when you're dead or after all six rounds. Like I said before, your funeral."

 _SPLOSH!_

The wet noise caught Jack's attention as they entered deep into the belly of the beast. From what seemed like a kitchen, came out the strong whiff of iron. There was the disgusting sound of something slouching across the floor along with the ship slowly rocking. Inside the kitchen, by a man-made station was a stranger in a black apron with a large cleaver in hand and a double chamber gas mask on his mouth. A real-life butcher from a horror movie.

Jack then found the source of the horrid sound. Buckets full of red blobs, flesh and piss, along with chopped up limbs stabbed on hooks and hung up on one wall. Green boils all over them.

Bolters. And it was quite possible that two, three other limbs that once belonged to some unlucky criminals.

"What's that for?" Jack asked, watching the butcher fill three red packets, seal them up and place them into a crate. The same meat bags she saw earlier. With one good boot, he kicked the crate out the kitchen - the content sliding next to a stack.

"Something to entice our feral contestants to stay inside the ring. We've had a few try to climb over the walls. Gets them into a blood frenzy during the nighttime."

"Huh."

Duman continued on, up a set of stairs. She was about to follow when she spotted something on top of the crates. It was something out of place, something one wouldn't easily find inside a ship.

Jack pulled at the floral-patterned curtain - the fresh, stinky red packets revealed underneath. She had seen this cloth before.

"Hey." She wheeled back to see Duman having come back down. "Don't go messing with those. Once that stuff is on you, the infected will be all over you like flies."

"OOOH!" A booming voice erupted from somewhere and everywhere, right above them. "And down he goes! That's gonna leave a mark. That is if he gets out alive, gents!"

"Shit. Sounds like the match's almost over. C'mon. Hurry up," Duman pushed and walked back up.

Jack skipped up the stairs with three big jumps as she adjusted her jacket a little.

"Head to the end and the Director will let you in."

"The Director? Corny name."

"Yeah, don't let him hear that," Duman then cleared his throat. "The man may be...extravagant but he has a short fuse. Heard he blundered his cellmate last year."

"Ooooh OH! He's still trying!" yelled the Director's voice again. "No, wait. He's calling quits. Nuh-uh. You all know the rules. Six rounds or your life!" The laughter crackled through the speakers, mending with the cheering from the crowd.

"Five minutes prep," Duman explained. "Give these idiots a good time, would you?"

Meaning a good fight or a good death? But the stern man wasn't explicative. "But of course."

Duman went off to his own business. She was alone in the container-stacked corridor, no one to spy her rolling the small pill bottle between her fingers.

"Sharp man. Almost saw through my little white lie."

She did spin the truth. Admittedly, she liked doing it. After all, she never said they were contraceptive pills. How easy it was for men to overthink things - the thought cracked a smile open.

Then the smile faded off as her grip on the bottle tightened. If that guard had never given her back the brown bottle, things would have gotten ugly.

"Gotta be more careful next time," she said to herself as she kept it away. "Finish it quick and get out, Jackie."

There was a rejuvenated sense as she walked down the corridor. The applause and upcoming fight brought back the rushing feelings from her memories. The danger. The glory. The thrill of her opponent on the other side of the match. She even shook her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, a usual and religious habit she did before a match.

Too bad she wasn't going against a human this time.

Jack reached the end. Or was it the start? The 'ring' was after a checkpoint barricaded up by gates, barred wires and two guards. From where she stood, all she could see was a prisoner on the steel floor with his stomach ripped up. Under the loud hollers, she listened to the sound of electricity and the painful grunts of some infected - tasered back to its cage.

"Aw, looks like that's it for Sabir. All too sudden." With one foot disrespectfully on top of the dead fighter, was another criminal. The only difference from any other onboard the ship was the black vest and a microphone in his hand. A referee dressed for the glamor. "But don't worry. The night is still young. Let's get this baaall rolling with our next contestant!"

The referee was eating the spotlight up, literally bathing in it. The bloodbath didn't faze him one bit. Exposure of intestines didn't even disgust him. The show only mattered. That uncanny determination remained on the man's face as he walked proudly to the checkpoint, shining a rather pearly-white grin - much whiter than what a convict should have.

"Hello, miss Celebrity!" he ushered with the kind of award-winning tone you'd hear on shows or the supermarket. "I couldn't believe it when the very person herself waltzed right into my showbiz! Mad Jack."

The flamboyant referee took a courteous bow. He held out his hand ever so dramatically like a gentleman wanting to kiss the offered hand of a Victorian lady.

"I'm the Director. And it's a pleasure in the presence of a famous kickboxing champion."

She didn't accept the gesture, hands stayed in her pockets. "So you've heard about my reputation?"

"Who doesn't? You're one fire of a woman." And now she wanted to gag. End her misery, quick. "An opportunity too! We should discuss business together, you and I. Once you managed to survive this, of course."

"Yeeeah. I'm officially retired. I'm just here for one night."

"One night can't be enough for you. I can see it in your eyes. You still want the thrill."

"On the contrary. I'm already living the dangerous life," Jack chided. "Plus rewards out there are more promising."

"But think about it. Out there is unpredictable." Alsan, or the 'Director', roped his arm around Jack's tense shoulders, dismissing her thinning frown. "Under me, it's supervised. We're stuck here with this outbreak and every day, people are fighting for survival. Crowds need something. And you know what that is?"

"Hope?"

"No! Relief! They want someone to pay the price. For all their misery, they'd want someone else to be hurt. Of course, competitors like Sabir over there," he started, pointing a thumb at the corpse being cleaned out of the ring. "They die easily. But you!" The turn was so sudden, it put Jack on fighter mode but her hands stayed in check, balled up however. "You can last longer than these chumps. The Wild Dog herself."

"And you want me to last long but still lose?"

"Lose? No. Well. Nobody really believes they can fight this outbreak." Such disgusting honesty that even beat hers. "I'd be amazed if you can live past six rounds. And if you do, I can give you more fights!"

"Yeah." Jack unhinged herself from the clingy guy. She knew where this was going - she had been there before. "I'm not the kind to take a fall. I'll take the six fights. Then I'm walking out of here with Antizin."

At first, the Director tried but not enough words would persuade her when Jack gave her most serious face at him.

It was enough to _kill._

"Alright." He held up his hands defeatedly. "I know when to quit ahead, especially for a woman's decision. But remember, the offer still stays." He turned back, listening to the impatient yells getting louder and louder. "Well. Time to give these people a good show, Jackie."

"Please don't call me that," she grumbled, feeling an unwanted tinge across her spine. Only she herself was the one who could say that nickname. But the Director didn't listen and simply stepped back into the ring. Mic back up.

"Gents and more gents, we've got a very interesting guest tonight! Three years with the world championship title-"

"It's four," she hissed, holding out four fingers. "It's four years."

"And the most terrifying female kickboxer of the 21st century. You heard that right! The villain of the ring! The Wild Dog herself is going to blow you right off your feet with more than her teeth. So put out all the bets, people and give it a round of applause foooor Mad Jack!"

Jack traded places with the Director - out into the ring she stepped forth as he hurried inside, the gate locked up at the checkpoint. Under the clear night sky, she glanced around at the squarish, man-made arena. Rather creative using the storage containers.

The audience sat behind barred fences, high enough that not even an infected could jump out. She could see some evidence a few walkers made an easy demise at the boundary. The cheers roared but it wasn't for Jack. Some catcalling, however, was tossed at her.

She simply ignored them all. Frankly, it did feel a little like her glorious days. People back then were shouting her name. A few fans of other kickboxers had even called for her head.

Because she always prevailed. She defeated the heroes in their eyes.

"Garrgh!" The sudden sound of metal shaking caught her attention as pale-skinned arms waved out from another gateway on the other side of the arena. It sounded eager to sink its teeth into her.

Jack breathed in and out deeply. She readied up her fists.

"It'sssss **SHOWTIME!** "

A lever pulled from somewhere and the gate opened.

 _Time to fight, Jackie._

* * *

A/N: 130/11/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter.

* **This has been a long-awaited disclaimer** that has to be put down in words, no matter how many times I've said no or discreetly explained that Crane will not evolve into a brute for anyone to fuck in bed. Whatever your kind of fantasies are, it's yours and I won't question it but I have been greatly disappointed at this constant prying since I've started this fic. It's even come to a point where I have to reveal a spoiler that's supposed to happen onwards in the next chapter: Crane cannot transform because of Jack's blood. It is only his skill tree that will evolve just like a Hunter's gameplay. Moreover, his form might even deform back to close to being human, thanks to Jack. This is where I am disappointed at readers pushing for something that I have to give out a spoiler before it's revealed. And even when it's in between the lines, some of you still push hoping I'll bend. This is what I hate: being told to change the storyline for your pleasure regardless of how many times I've said no! Regardless of knowing that I've already planned how this story goes. I welcome constructive criticism but not to the point where quite a number of my review has been "making Crane big, hulky and monstrous". I have even grown to **hate my own creation** because some of you can't take a damn hint! And this is not recent, this has gone on long enough. I am angry that it has come to this disclaimer, the revealing of a spoiler and disliking my own work!

I am writing a story about Crane's humanity and Jack's survival. That has been my goal since I first wrote my prologue. And there are other readers who want to read this more than a monster fetish. This fanfic is not one of those kinds of fics. And if you keep pushing for Crane to 'evolve', whether as a joke or not, then I will end it. Even anything to tell me to change my story plot like stopping Jack from helping directly or not. I will refuse to continue this fic and let it be buried for good.

That is my final warning: Crane is not going to evolve. Jack's blood stops him from changing. That's it. This is not a joke, there is no chance ever of me changing my mind.

Moving on to a note that people will care reading: I will admit this chapter has been a lot improved than my previous one. Crane's character in my previous chapter was too passive and cowardly because I thought too much on his fear of his new form. But this is still the same Crane - he would take measures into his own hands like he has in the game. The more I improve my chapters, the more I'm improving my writing on Crane to still be the protagonist in the prologue arc - something that I had noticed I did poorly before. I hope he still keeps true to that protagonist spotlight, just as much as Jack's rising up too. I've also thought more on Crane's skill tree, with some inspiration from the fight against the Mother in the Following and more. The blade might be a little game-breaking but I'd say its only for emergency.

And...it's his ulna bone. If his arm isn't suited in any way, it could particularly snap right off.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter for what it is. And what this story will be.

Btw if I'm not clear again about this disclaimer, the next review to ask "Crane to evolve" is getting reported.


	9. EIGHT: A LEGEND'S WORTH

Chapter Summary

 **\- THE ARENA**

 _Six rounds against infected. I need to make it out OK and find where they keep the Antizin. Wherever it is, I know I'm not gonna leave without this place burning down. - Jack_

* * *

 **EIGHT: A LEGEND'S WORTH**

* * *

 _BAM…!_

 _BAM…!_ The metal gate shook. Something behind it was impatient - Jack couldn't see beyond the bars. However, a misty substance drifted between the bars like small embers. If she had to guess, it wasn't good.

Before the infected could slam itself mindlessly at the metal grill again, the gate opened. Out the creature staggered into the ring, with a loud growl declaring its presence to the cheering. A second one exclaimed that it spotted Jack.

A Night Walker. The nighttime gave a common scrub the boost it needed to be on par with a Biter. But it was still slow in speed, an advantage she needed. Just a dodge and a boot to the foot and oops, it tripped and fell. Mad Jack basically danced about the poor sob as it tried to attack. Over and over. But all were misses - just flimsy swings of the hands.

Jack couldn't have her fun for long as some boos were heard for taking the first match too long. She eventually obliged by seizing the Night Walker's head and twisting it a complete 270.

 _SNAP!_

 _There, happy?_

"That went fast!" the Director yelled through the speakers. "But that's just the appetizer. Next up, picked from the Captain's cabin in Sunny Costa Cruise, and no - he's not the captain. We dunno - Crewmate Hannibal!"

Again, the gate from the infected's side opened at command. Out popped Jack's next opponent: a regular Biter in a Hawaiian shirt, baseball cap with sunglasses on top and Bermuda shorts. Just like the first, it shot itself with teeth bare but she took a sharp right and jabbed at the diaphragm. An odd choice for the undead, especially since it was the same technique she used on the thug before.

It did tumble back but whether from the force or lack of air, she wouldn't know. She instantly seized the arm and twirled it completely that she heard the joint _snap_.

The clumsy tourist didn't have a well-endorsed body before he was turned: having spent too much time at the bar from the stench it had. But the virus still prevailed on, telling its host to chase after her. It just needed to bite her.

Jack ducked first, grabbing for its abdomen, and threw it over her. She heard it hit the metal floor behind her. And just before it could climb back up, she slammed a foot right at its head. Cracked open like a rotten egg.

"Another win for Mad Jack, gents!" the Director droned under the booming applause. And it wasn't even a minute that he was rallying up the next fight. "Now this one's fresh from the marketplace and I do mean that literally. No ID off this guy but he's reeling up for a brawl! Welcome our third zombie, Iron Fist!"

 _THUNK!_

Out of the blues, the gate bent outwards. Something had rammed headfirst with a roar.

 _THUNK!_

The banging was a lot louder, vicious, than the first opponent. It was enough to put Jack on the fence but she stayed focus.

"And looks like he's real impatient! Release him, boys!"

 ** _THUNK!_**

The gate almost bent as it rose up. Bursting out was what should have been a common infected - except it was muscular top-body. Hardened boils riddled across its carapace-plated arms, some the size of grapefruits on its hands. Even one side of its face was covered by smaller boils and yet its flesh had been torn off from the lower half. The clothes it wore was that a standard athlete would wear: tank top, shorts, barefoot. Jack could easily tell it was someone who once was an adept in combat sports.

What on Earth was that?

"Yeeaaah! A Brawler!" she heard someone yell.

Suddenly, the infected snapped its head towards the noise. It wailed out irritatedly and unexpectedly charged off.

 _CLUNK!_

One side of the arena shook, scaring the spectators there right off their seats. The waving of the fence, back and forth, back and forth before it eventually stood still, was enough to make anyone think an infected escape was possible.

Jack was almost thrown back, freezing on the spot. It was the first time she had ever seen an infected change on a dime instead of lunging at the prey in front of it. It didn't help that the thing was unpredicted, blindly searching for its victim-

No. She corrected herself. The thing _was_ blind. It was relying on sound alone.

This time, she had to be extra careful. She couldn't read an infected's moves as easy as a human's - hence why she had taken the first two walkers quick and simple so that she could conserve her energy for the next one.

She stepped slowly around, quiet as a mouse. As dangerous as it was, she couldn't go upfront like before. It became increasingly alarming to her when it lifted its head up, its bone-exposed nostrils sniffing the air.

So it also relied on smell. It wouldn't take long before it would find her.

"Hey! Get a move one!" another prisoner from above yelled crossly, chucking an empty can at the fence.

"Grraaasnk!" the Brawler hollered at the outburst.

Good. It couldn't put its focus on locating Jack with so many distractions from the audience. That gave her time - how should she take this one down? Its top body was wide and thick, making it difficult to hit at vital parts or snap its neck.

But its lower legs looked as weak as twigs in comparison to its top weight, even if they gave the freak tremendous speed.

"Phwwwhht!"

The Brawler turned sharply at Jack's whistle. Another howl to yell that this time, it heard her. It _had_ her. The infected charged headfirst and headstrong. All of a sudden, however, it stopped mid-run and fired one of its inflamed fists at her - the force of its dash giving it an extra push.

 _THUD!_

Her heart almost jumped into her throat as she felt the wind brush above her. She didn't get hit. It was an easy duck down, but it was enough to know the sheer power a Brawler had in one punch. Even the dent on the fence behind her proved it.

It was like a mantis shrimp. Two bullet punches like that would absolutely kill her. But the heaviness in its arms was another disadvantage. It took too much time to recover - the Brawler retrieving back its fired fist - as Jack darted forward and low-kicked at the ankle.

Down it went like Humpty Dumpty. She swore she heard something _crack_. Jack rose back up, searching for a weak spot, which she found on the exposed back. The vertebrates were grossly pierced outwards.

She snapped them with a downward roundhouse kick.

 _CRACK!_

It was a sickening sound but that guaranteed that the Brawler would stay down. It gurgled aggravatedly but all limbs wouldn't move.

"Come on! That's cheating!" someone yelled.

She ignored the whiner. Jack would use every page in the book she knew to survive, and that meant every single technique she knew - from full to semi-contact, from Muay Thai to freestyle. Retired didn't mean she was rusty.

"Impressive, and we only have halfway to go. Now you all remember him from last week, who unfortunately met his demise after getting his winnings. Let us give a second of prayer and a second round of applause for our last week's winner, from Cell Block A, Scanderoon Bay Prison and with a new toy to play with, Tough Turk!"

Despite all the yelling and loud noises around her, she heard something heavy drag across the floor. Jack wheeled back to see the battered gate open and the one infected type she least expected.

Oh, now _that_ was **_cheating!_**

"Grooooaaawnn!"

 _THUD!_

"Hey!" Jack hollered. Her fourth opponent was a Goon. "Isn't that against the rules?!"

The Director didn't reply. He was too busy shining his toothy smirk to the audience.

"Asreholes," she hissed, reeling back to her kickboxing mentality. Contestants couldn't enter with weapons but zombies could?!

The Goon tried to narrow down the distance between them. Sluggishly, when it 'thought' it had the chance, it lifted its weapon up and down onto Jack. A quick dodge and a miss, the rebar's aftershock denting into the metal floor.

It was a long and gruelling fight. For every evasion she did, she punched twice at its side and backed off before the next swing of the rebar. She literally had to take a Goon down with her _fists_ \- a feat she had never heard anyone do. There was very little measure for an opening, its melee having such a wide reach.

And it finally did hit something.

 _CLANK!_

"Gah!" The whole brute force nearly took her off her feet. Thankfully, it was only the rebar, not the stone at the end. Jack had used her arm to cushion the blow.

Well, it was kind of a dumb, instinctive move. There was probably a fracture now.

One more blow and she'd be left punching with one hand. Of worse, dead. Moreover, the crowd roared louder, wilder, at the sight of her injury. They really wanted her dead.

She had to change her game.

"Grooooaaawnn!"

 _THUD!_

Another swing onto the ground but Jack evaded it and this time, darted right in front of the Goon. As much as her right arm hurt, she bit through the pain and jabbed her left palm at the infected's wrist - a self-defense move to disarm a foe. And it actually worked! The Goon flinched, dropping its weapon.

Jack, however, braced up her arms.

"Omph!" The Goon actually retaliated. Even weaponless, a simple swing of an arm was like a swap to a fly - far more painful than the regular Biters' witless beating. Had she not blocked, she might have flown across the arena. Jack was knocked back five feet away, down on a knee.

She tried to force herself back on her feet, adrenaline pumping through her muscles - one second on the ground was a second closer to death. The Goon, however, didn't come to finish the job.

It sluggishly turned back to the rebar.

"Nonono **no!** "

Quick thinking pushed Jack to act _madly_. Before the infected thug could reach for the hilt, Jack roped her arms around its waist and with all her strength, she quickly hoisted him up.

Yes, trying a suplex on a Goon was probably a terrible idea but she had to try!

 _THUD!_

Jack quickly backed off, arms reeling back up for any surprise attack. The infected thug in its jumpsuit didn't climb back up at first, with fingers twitching uncontrollably. It then tried to push itself up but surplex had really did it in - its head dangling loose.

"Stay down!" she pleaded and gave one hard kick down on its head. Another degree turn and the neck snapped.

The Goon finally gave up.

"Whoooee! Four out of six! Mad Jack's on a roll here. But how about we up the difficulty level, shall we?" the Director sang.

Oh, fuck off. She couldn't curse out as she fought every heavy breath. They wouldn't give Jack a breather either.

"You know what time it is. TIME FOR THE **_BLOOD FRENZY!_** "

The audience's volume suddenly peaked up, making Jack gravely concerned. Two men behind the fences appeared with the familiar crate she had seen from the kitchen. They flung something over and into the ring.

 _Blop, blop, splash!_ The blood packets exploded, coating the floor thick and red.

Why? Jack then recalled what Duman had said about these meat bags and stayed firm in her defensive stance.

"This one took a lot of work capturing after our last Volatile got taken down by Tough Turk himself. And this is gonna be very interesting: get ready for Jack the Ripper versus Mad Jack!"

"Are you fucking joking me?" she murmured to herself.

But nothing in this tournament was a joke to her. Her fifth opponent was a Volatile. A _Volatile!_

How on Earth did they even bring this thing here?!

"GAARGH!" Saliva sprayed from its open manicibles. Strangely and horrifyingly more berserk than the ones she ran away from. Something was wrong. It was twitching constantly, breathing heavily, yielding for more.

Like it was drugged.

Jack had never fought a Volatile - because she never dared herself to fight one. The tales she had heard about these freaks and the losses the Ravs had faced. All she could do was dodge. And dodge again and again, saving herself from turning into shredded pork. There was no sign of a weakness no matter how hard she searched. No chance of hesitation from the crazed monster.

She barely noticed the other arm swaying at her.

Thankfully, it wasn't the talons. Unfortunately, it was a hard swing to her side. It knocked her right off her feet, sending her across the blood-soaked dirt.

'Jack the Ripper' was already on the next attack, suddenly worse than before as she could barely get up. A boot at the chest shoved it away gave her a chance to widen the space. But her stamina is nearly spent - her lungs were burning up and sweat dripped down her face.

Finally, she felt a sweep of the claws at her lower side. Shallow but it still hurt like hell.

 _I'm not gonna survive._

Fuck it.

The professional fighter immediately took up a stance, one foot forth and palms out. She took in one inhale, then a long, deep exhale.

"What is she doing?"

"Wow, she looks real dumb! Ahahaha!"

They could laugh it up all they wanted. The onlookers didn't know a thing about Tai Chi.

Push all noises out. Shove out the fatigue and pain. Lead the qi around and find the centre of gravity.

 _Because you might get hurt for this to work._

"GAARGH!" The Volatile lunged. The attack couldn't be stopped as she backed away, still in her unique pose. But the breathing technique helped - it numbed the newest sensation of pain down. It fortified her body to stay alive just a little longer.

She found the opening at one skin-peeled arm flinging at her, which she braced it back with her open palms. Jack maneuvered the monster to go the direction she wanted, using her other leg - positioned forward this time - to make it trip and tumble.

Jack repositioned herself for the next lunge. _Try again._

 _Find that moment._

The Volatile tried again. The same result happened. However, she used one palm this time. Her shoulders pushed the Volatile's body back while the other hand grabbed for the unthinkable.

And she yanked it out, muscles peeling off in a disgusting sound.

"GAARGH!" Another wail but this time out of excruciating pain as the infected clutched its face.

"Shit! Did you see that?"

Jack entered the arena weaponless. So, she had to _make_ her own weapon. And it didn't come without consequences - the canines biting into her hand that blood flowed onto the bone.

A broken jawbone was an ideal weapon. And no one could say no to that.

The Volatile screamed angrily at the sight of its stolen mandible, the other flaying outwards. _Give it back_ , was probably not one thought or demand it had.

She'd gladly give it back regardless.

It took another opening for her to come close - the Volatile never learning from her parry a third time and she stabbed the jawbone into its side. Sounded impossible and yet, she was able to use possibly the sharpest end of the bone and jammed it between the tendons.

Jack didn't leave it in - it was too precious to leave it in the beast's gut.

Because now it was a waiting game.

If only it wasn't so much **_difficult_** now that her fortitude had worn off. The Volatile was catching up to her on speed and fury. With the distance shortened far too much for it to tear her down, she madly latched onto its head and reeled back hers.

 _SMACK!_

Yes. She literally headbutted the infected. It stammered clumsily away and Jack took a few seconds to recover from the recoil.

Ok, she regretted that. _No! No! Get back in!_

Jack recoiled back up, her fingers switching the jawbone around in her hand like setting up a brass knuckles. She fired a fist, then another - every punch halting the monster from quickly retaliating. Her blood from her open knuckles flew as specks and dropped onto the soaked ground, on herself, on the infected's skinless body.

C'mon, when was that card up her sleeve gonna start-!

"Gack!"

The Volatile gagged loudly. Then came another one. And another, as it fell on one knee.

"Garugh!" it uttered and suddenly, its claws lashed onto its throat. It started to tear at it, as if something was stuck inside and the Volatile couldn't get it out.

"Um, I think Jack the Ripper's last meal didn't agree with him! Ahahaha," the Director nervously chuckled to the audience.

"Go down, go down!" Jack whispered. The infected was still resisting it, stumbling towards her for the kill. But there was no way it could win like Freakazoid did... _right?!_

"Srank!"

That snarl came from behind. Jack wheeled around to see the Brawler back up. Shit, the blow to its back wasn't enough - as evidenced by its body loomed to one side.

"WELL! WELL! Looks like Iron Fist is back on his feet! Two against one, gents! Let's see who comes out on top!"

Great, between a rock and a hard place. The struggling Volatile gave out a garbled voice while the Brawler roared. Both sides pounced at her.

"SHIT!" She dropped down.

One bloated fist ricocheted off and the claws slashed up. The Brawler's tumors ruptured, pus and blood oozing out as the abdomen split open. The Volatile's head slingshot from the sheer impact, the other jaw broken.

Two great Specials killed together in an ironic turn of the table.

The Brawler's body splashed onto the drenched floor and the Volatile clumsily floundered with its coughing fit. It continued to choke violently until its own ripping of its throat did it in,a desperate attempt to breathe turned bloody.

And the entire time, Jack had been in the middle, unharmed and still on the defense.

As she tiredly climbed onto her feet, the surprise ending caused some in the audience to gasp. Some vocally spoke out their anger. A few called out to the referee that the jawbone was a cheat! Demanded the Director to call out that was a loss!

But both opponents were dead.

"Um… Well, she didn't kill them with a weapon. And they're both dead so...that's a win?" The Director then forcefully changed back to his rambunctious persona. "Looks like we're gonna have to find a new Volatile for next event."

The shock soon dissolved into disappointment, then more anger - some towards the Director, some at Jackie for that stunt and surprisingly, debating at the other spectators. Cheers and claps for her luck was quickly short-lived - pressure peer, after all.

"Settle down! Settle down," the referee tried to bring order back. "We've still got one final match to end it all and I guarantee you all, it's gonna be a finale nobody will forget!"

 _Really? I wanna forget_ , Jack thought wearily.

"Without further ado, time to let loose our best and biggest motherfuckers yet! Weeelcome, **TITAN!** "

Oh, great. Now what?

Jack's answer came swift through the gate. Slow. Sluggish.

Big. Menacing. And she had seen the type before.

A Demolisher. **_A big, fat, giant Demolisher!_**

"You bloody ain't kidding me," she groaned.

"BRROOUGGGH!" it bellowed. It charged.

She could feel the wind brush by her just as she jumped right at the last second and heard the loud _CLUNK_ behind her. The strength was enough to inch one container-wall back, giving the spectators that side a jump for their money - some frightfully muttering if the walls could protect them from a Demolisher.

Lovely! She was in a small space with this enormous bloke. The only saving grace helping her was its slow movement. She could keep dodge for every time the monster regained its energy.

But there was no _fucking_ way she could punch her way through that thing! A jawbone wasn't going to cut it. It wouldn't pierce through its bony carapace skin, she most definitely knew that!

She needed another weapon! Any weapon!

Then she spied the Goon's rebar.

Jack ditched the blood-drenched bone and hurried over to it.

 _Tik-tik-tik!_

"Shit!" Three warning shots fired at her feet just as her fingers only grasped the hilt - she skidded away quickly.

"Oh no, no, no!" The Director waved his finger at her like a parent scolding a naughty child. "Sorry, Jackie. Remember the rules. No weapons."

"You fucking wank-!"

"Grroooar!"

Another charge and miss from the big guy. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_

What could she do?!

She searched as she evaded. There had to be something, anything to take down this once human riot police-

The idea then struck her when she noticed something.

No weapons for humans. But no one checked for any tools on an infected.

"Come on!" she then taunted. The big guy had finished his latest charge and leisurely wheeled back to her. With a wide, toothy grin, Jack waved her arms and slapped her thighs - like cooing a bear to come eat her. "C'mon, fatty!"

 _Thud, thud, thud,_ its feet boomed. _CLUNK!_

It barely felt the small, puny human climb up its back in a sprint and as the Demolisher rose up from its impact, Jack quickly latched onto its torn Kevlar vest.

A feat nobody has tried on a Demolisher. She patched through the pockets as she hung on for dear life! The Demolisher eventually got the memo that it proceeded to fling its bulky arms about like a spoiled child wailing. Thank goodness it couldn't stretch them to its back like a human could.

 _Click!_

A small canister dropped to its feet. It had been pulled from its pockets, the metal ring already yanked out.

 _BANG!_

"Shit!" yelled a spectator close to the fence.

The arena had gone white, piercing enough that it blinded the audience and the Director. Even the Demolisher was affected in some way, whether it was the flashbang's light strong enough to stun it or the ringing sound that disorientated it.

The only one in the arena not affected wasJack, who crouched her body behind its back from the explosion.

Five seconds.

That was all the time she had, desperately holding onto the now dumbfounded monster. Literally like riding a mutated bull. Under the few seconds of obscurity, nobody could see her jam her arm into its mouth.

"Bite on it!" she shrieked, grabbing its lower jaw and pushing it up.

The five seconds ran out. The Demolisher revolted more violently than before. It wanted the thing in its mouth out - it wanted the annoying bug off it. Another swing of the arms and Jack went flying.

"Gah!" The wet metal floor pushed the agony in her body even more. Jack's struggling attempt to stand up was enough time for the Demolisher to charge towards her. Her fatigue was nearly at its max.

The crowd wailed. Yes, her demise was coming, they applauded. She couldn't dodge anymore.

Jack raised an arm as her shield. What a sad attempt to try and block an infected's ram-

 _Click!_

In her other hand, another pin was pulled. She had pitched a _second grenade_ and shielded her eyes. Not forward. But up.

 _BANG!_

The world was white again for five seconds. This time, the gleeful viewers - so eager for the retired kickboxer's death - felt all the photoreceptor cells in their eyes burn.

"I can't see!"

This time again, the giant infected wobbled about aimlessly. It couldn't notice the small metal foundations on the floor, one of several ways to keep containers from slipping off the ship, that finally, in its moment, it actually tripped on one.

It couldn't even see that Jack had dropped near the defeated Goon.

That she had the rebar in her hands.

She swung.

 _WHACK!_

Something made a horrible sound, fleshy and squishy. The helmet had flung clean across the arena like a failed homerun ball. The whole ship suddenly felt a little quiver from the giant's fall.

Everything became quiet.

No one in the audience dared to speak after their vision came back. All Jack could hear was the sound of her heavy breathing, the heavy beating of her heart. The waiting was now more excruciating.

Was a whack to the head enough to kill a Demolisher?

It staggered back up, its pestering strength pulling at Jack's worry. It almost looked like the infected had one more fight in it. There were a few twitches here and there. With a thud and a splash, the giant gave up on the spot with a gurgling sound.

It was dead.

Her sixth opponent didn't get up.

The silence slowly broke, first by the whispers. Then the growing boos and hisses. But Jack didn't care. She was all to relieved she had survived, listlessly dropping the rebar to the floor as she tried to catch her breath. She was done.

She had triumphed.

"There's no way. Nobody has survived a Demolisher attack before!"

"Hey! She used a weapon!"

"That's against the rules!"

"I want my money back!"

"Rematch! I demand a rematch!"

"Oh, thank you. Thank you. You're too kind," Jack droned, hands waving in the air. Despite how exhausted she felt, she wanted to relish in their salt as much as possible.

 _Let it all sink in that, bastards._

"Uh." The Director was glancing back and forth, trying to think about how he should assess the situation. All he could conclude was that there was nothing they could throw at her. "G-Give a clap for Miss Mad Jack, gents. Our third winner and champion of tonight's show! All betters, you know where to get your winnings."

The mocking and disappointment kept on rolling. Jack simply ignored them all. She weakly strolled towards her exit - the guards there opening up with tense shoulders and awe that someone had survived.

Keep on going, she limped slowly down the narrow metallic hall. She wasn't out of the woods yet.

Then her vision blurred. The muscles in her fingers spasmed uncontrollably, the feeling rippling through her body. To the common folks of the epidemic, these were the clear signs of the Harran virus trying to win the internal war.

Except for the growing headache.

"Shit." It was starting again.

With a shaking hand, Jack quickly took out the brown bottle. She fought the involuntary twitches to uncap it open and pop out two little reds. One swallow.

She had to wait it out as much as she hated it.

"Fucking migraine," she groaned. Closed her eyes to steady herself. _Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe out_. Her fingers were too stiff for her to count down. It would slowly settle down in a few minutes, enough for her vision to come back. But it was gonna take the whole night for her to make a full recovery.

 _Again, Jack. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out._ She couldn't afford to be like this inside a dangerous place.

 _Get back in the game, get back in the game, get back-_

"Miss?"

She shot herself up, trying to feint ignorance but that nearly made her lose her footing. Right in front of her was Duman, giving an odd look of concern. Just a tiny bit in the man's frown.

"You ok?"

"What? Oh, good. Good. You know, six fights, really take the wind out of ya," it was partly the truth but she said all that a bit too fast.

"Six fights should have done you in."

She chuckled. "I'm not that easy to be killed. I've survived this long and I don't plan on stopping."

"I don't know whether to call you looney or ballsy."

"You're not the first. I've already been called those in the past."

 _Clap. Clap. Clap._

"Truly remarkable." Interrupting the little conversation, the Director waltzed through the hall with his arms spread out. "You've made quite a show tonight. Far spectacular than I imagined."

"Really?" Jack inquired.

"Of course! Even the great Alexander was impressed by your performance."

Again, that name. It was a rather strange puzzle to Jack. In just two weeks of the unfolding chaos, this one man had risen above everyone and take the reins. One man became the leader of freed prisoners when these men acted like barbarians on the ship.

Perhaps one of the most dangerous from Scanderoon's penitentiary. If she was right, then what the Director said was a lie.

"He wants to meet you in person. Not many have a chance like that with that man."

"Sounds like he's revered."

"Of course! Alexander was the one who guided us out of the darkness and into the light. We were abandoned by the world, left to rot in our cells. But Alexander...he led us out to make our names in this…'dawn of the apocalypse'."

Oh, how lovely. A crazed fanboy.

"He must have a lot on his hands. Doubt he'd have time to praise my fighting skills," Jack said.

"No, no. Of course, he has!" Aslan stopped her from ever saying she was taking her leave. "We have all the time in the world now. The skills you have, it could do wonders for us. The start of something beautiful. It'd be worth your while."

Sure, an early grave.

Jack gave a passing glance back to the arena. "Your audience doesn't sound too happy about me."

"Oh, they'll get over it. We can always get more replacements for the next tournament," the Director swung between sentences as swiftly as he slid right up to the ex-kickboxer, arm draped around her shoulders. "But you're a one time deal."

"Really?" Jack fought every fibre in her body to deliver a blow at that 'award-winning' smile. "That easy, huh?"

"Not replacing you, of course. If you cooperate." How nice and subtle he'd slip in 'if she cooperated'. "The infected, well, it'd be hard to top off tonight's show. But that's why we have trappers out catching them."

She just shook her head, her smile still staying. It wasn't going to be easy getting out, if this prisoner was going to shepherd her to their big boss.

She was playing with fire after all.

"Come now. It'd be a real waste of talent," again he persuaded. "The guys who enter these tournaments? They think they can rise up the ranks easier by showing they can survive this outbreak. They dream for escape. But they're just pieces of meat. Just stepping stones for us."

"Us?"

"Well, you need a spokesperson. I'm the one who sells them that dream. And I can take it away too."

A shallow, indirect threat. She had gotten those kinds before.

Finally, the Director unhinged himself off her. "You are the Wild Dog. You can't be satisfied with retirement. And with the world possibly ending around us, a legend's gotta rise back up."

"To sell the dream?"

"Exactly! Now we're seeing eye to eye."

Oh, she certainly was not. How entertaining it was listening to the man dance to his shady tune.

"If you get on the boss' side, then I can make you a legend again. One that even towers your days as the Wild Dog. What do you say to that?"

"Interesting offer," she started, enticing a pleasing smile out of the Director. "But I can make my own stories my way."

"I cannot understand you," he uttered. "This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Don't you want to be more than just 'Mad Jack'? You're as mad as a Hatter to deny this."

"Well, I didn't choose the name. I'm not of those guys who give themselves a dumb nickname."

The smirk on the Director's face was slapped off. He couldn't see the wink behind her shades but the click of her tongue was enough to peeve him. To tick him off. Even the wary look from Duman expressed how close Jack was to stepping over that line.

"You know," the Director started, closing the space between him and the smiling brawler, so hushed and low his voice whispered spitefully at her. "You really should think carefully about the offer. You're still on this ship."

"And what? You're gonna run to your boss and tell him the crazy shrewd is making fun of you?" Jack coolly whispered. A moment of hesitation out of the referee but his glare was growing colder.

Just another lackey under this Alexander's thumb after all. Easy to be squashed by the same thumb.

"This whole 'showbiz' of yours... It's not about relief. It's just stroking one's ego. The contestants, the audience, even you."

"Well, aren't you full of yourself," the Director scoffed. "The pot calling the kettle black. It's just a glorified past, miss Celebrity. The Wild Dog's a forgotten name."

"Really? Then why did you say my name again?"

The witty comeback slapped the smirk again off his face. Now getting darker. Angrier.

But Jack didn't back away. Instead, she purposely shortened the distance them, an invitation for him to attack.

 _Try it._

The fuming referee gave nothing but the grounding of teeth and tightly curled fists.

"The difference between you and me? I don't go announcing my name around. Everyone in the world already does it for me," she smoothly berated. "That's what legends are. They stay forever."

It was the final hit on the man's pride. But the short fuse hadn't snapped yet. Jack already knew - the man would be as dead as her opponents if he tried to kill her now, whether by her hands or by the boss'.

It was a gamble she took and she won just like her six matches.

"Now… Can I get my winnings?" she asked 'politely'.

His jaw clenched. Then the pearly white smile came back - the 'fake' courtesy the Director had always shown before. "Not until you meet with the boss. At the captain's hold."

 _Don't overstep yourself_ , those words were read off his sentence. There was a small spark of gleeful malice in the referee's eyes - their great king would surely kill the vulgar gladiator at the foot of his throne.

"Sure," she chided. "I'll meet Alexander."

Nothing to push down Mad Jack's wall. The only rebuttal the Director could do was walk away, his heels stomping loudly.

"Really. Most men in prison would know when to quit," Duman finally spoke out with a heavy sigh. He had kept holding his breath for quite too long.

And the woman had the gall to just shrug her shoulders - really, she didn't know the value of cautiousness. "Well, I certainly live to my namesake. Didn't see that short fuse you were talking about."

"Don't push your luck, lady. Everyone from Scanderoon Prison is dangerous."

"Even you?" Jack pointed out that light jab.

"I could. You don't know what I've been charged with."

"No. None of my business. Dark pasts are meant to be buried."

"Hm… Guess this is the end." The stern man offered his hand.

Jack scoffed lightly. "You must be glad I'm out of your hair then." She reached to shake the hand-

Suddenly, Jack was pulled forward.

"No, miss. This is really the end for you."

There was nobody in the hallway to see Duman whisper in her ear. A knife could have stabbed her in the gut. But how could he with his other hand immediately seized by Jack?

But she listened attentively. He had no shiv on him, just the cautious glare.

"You need to leave now. Everyone's demanding for your head," he warned. "And if the boss' calling for you...that can't be good."

"I figured as much… Then I'll do one thing better," she explained, the chirpy tone unbroken. She neared closer to his ear. "You should leave this place too."

Duman jerked back his head. Duman almost pulled his hand away but Jack didn't let go. He could feel the prying gaze through the shades. This was madness, his gaze read. But Jack's expression and firm grip counterattacked.

"I already knew I'm dead the moment I walked in. But I'm not leaving without that Antizin."

In order words, the ex-kickboxer had already planned to make enemies.

She finally let go of his hand.

Duman couldn't understand. Men have been desperate these two weeks, to the point they've dropped dead like flies. He had seen the many faces before they were wiped out in the arena and at the prison. The hope flickered so fast from their eyes - the last thing they saw was a Viral.

But the woman in front of him...she had a rare look on her. She was prepared to walk down the aisle with Death.

No. She had already been prepared. She was going to bring Hell on board the ship.

And for what? Just for a couple of bottles to cure herself? Why else would anyone come for these matches?

"You already bet away yours-"

"It's not for me."

Another shock from him. Then what? The woman could and _should_ have gotten infected. She particularly bathed in the red-tainted arena. She swam with the sharks, just by the skin of her teeth and lived.

"Duman, you're a smart man. You know how not to draw attention. You also know not to give away any secrets. Is your girlfriend's name Kaya or Kara?"

Duman instinctively jerked back, tugging down one of his sleeves.

"Not the girlfriend then. You knitted your eyebrows there but that tattoo means something to you," Jack pointed, pushing Duman to react. Two subtle notches of shock. "It looks too simple compared to the ones these blokes have. Doesn't have any romantic images either. But that date's significant, isn't it?"

The man in front of her couldn't believe his ears. But that was the thing: every single, little twitch he unconsciously gave helped Jack connect the dots.

"'16 March 2003'. 12 years in prison?" The silence told her that she was on the right track. So she kept going. "Now...Kara is also a Turkish name. For a man. Having that on your arm means it's easy for you to see but difficult for anyone to spot. It's a reminder."

Yet there was no ill will from the woman's vibe. There was nothing that told Duman she had intentions to spin the web on him. Perhaps it was why she gave a moment of courtesy for the next thing she said.

"That tattoo you wear. It's for grief, isn't it?"

He could have rebutted back. He could have gone aggressive like most of the thugs from prisons. But all he could do was absorb her words.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask.

Jack simply smiled. Warm.

"I'm just a retired kickboxer. That's about it, really."

No, she was dodging the question. And she was very good at it.

"Hey. Don't go cocky," he then provoked, with hopes of getting her to change her mind. Stop taking the bull by the horns while you're underneath its stomping hooves. "I could tell everyone what you just said."

Jack 'madly' acknowledged that with a nod and a shrug. "You could. But I did say you're a smart man. You can't risk it. You want to see your girlfriend again, right?"

The fists curled up. How daring and touchy for some random stranger to bring his girlfriend into the conversation. It didn't matter if it came from the opposite sex, that was still reaching for the low hanging branch.

But the problem was that she was right.

He survived prison for 12 years, with a small glimmer of hope just to see that beautiful face and hear the firecracker from her voice. He survived for another two weeks and he planned to keep on going. With just the right words and rarely did he stoop to the acts of a barbarian - that was how many got killed. It was far easier to follow the crowd and stay low, just enough to look for an opening. An escape.

A stranger saw all that out of him.

Admittedly…it terrified him.

"That's why you need to leave and find someplace safe."

And just like that, shock replaced his wariness.

Was this woman really _daft?_ She literally was planning to take down this whole place? And she had the nerve to give that kind of threat?

No.

As deceiving as it looked, Duman couldn't find any ounce of untruth in the woman's face. The smile was genuine, the offer was honest. No strings attached to the chance he had been looking when Scanderoon fell.

12 years he has survived. And he would keep on going. Just never in his life behind bars would he meet a kind soul underneath a wolf's clothing.

After all, who could you really trust among a group of crooks?

"...Watch yourself."

Duman left, probably never to be seen again. Or maybe fate might be cheeky next time. Who knew.

At least, Jack found a good soul among a band of thieves. A rare chance and dangerous considering her circumstances but she smiled softly at the gifted gauze in her pocket - a simple reverse of a pocket lift.

In times like this, finding a reliable ally could go a long way in extending her life a little longer in a sticky situation. Maybe it was out of pity, or maybe out of mercy.

Or hope. He banked on her escaping - and maybe he banked for her to live another day after that talk.

That said, she couldn't afford to endanger Duman - just a warning to get off before things would get ugly. Regardless if he'd spill the beans, the dominoes had already fallen way after she entered through the main entrance.

A quick patch-up and she took only ten steps before she was stopped. Two new faces that weren't friendly-looking.

"Alexander-"

"Yes, yes. He wants to see me. I got the message," Jack cut off one of the henchmen and willingly followed.

She searched high and low as the two men guided her onto a fixed path - somewhere at the bow of the ship. There wasn't any opening she could spy, so the idea to bail ship and fall into the water was out. Another point was the lack of signs she had hoped to find.

There was nothing that screamed, "here's a big bag of goods". Wherever they kept the Antizin, it wasn't on the first deck. It had to be inside the belly somewhere.

"Tight shift you all have," she droned. "Shocking that this place can run so well on a ship."

Nothing out of their lips as they ventured on, now up a flight of stairs. If she had to guess: the bridge.

"So do you keep your sweepstakes safe? A ship with convicts running the place, I can imagine a rat or two stealing some valuable crumb on board."

No response. Not even a muscle twitch. That meant they knew nothing.

"Not much for gossip, hm?"

Still nothing. Her time was running short at the last flight of stairs and she couldn't bail immediately on the off-chance a gun would turn to her back. If a 'boss' of convicts and thieves asked for her presence, it rang all the alarms in her head.

"Well, well. If it ain't the infamous wildcat. In the flesh."

At the top of the stairs, another man in the orange jumpsuit greeted her. Another Turkish criminal locked up for whatever crime, except for a few minor things - the inmate haircut growing out and the eaten-off right ear. The new face was the burly kind who used his smarts to get close to the top. The best description Jack could think of was a doberman, unleashed that he could prance around willy-nilly, right outside the boss's lair.

"Never would I imagine seeing you again."

"Do I know you?"

The stranger looked offended at her reply. "Oh, right. You don't remember. Celso's the name. I'm actually your biggest fan."

A lie. Jack knew that.

"Really?" she tested the waters. "I know most of my fans' faces-"

"Oh, no. Not your kickboxing career. Your _past work._ " He pointed shiftily at the old scar on his ear. "I've heard you've gone soft."

The bitter feeling in her gut warned her that Jack was stepping onto hot coals. She should have turned and bolted the moment she saw the one-eared convict.

"You can see the Junction from all the way here." Celso' gaze pointed to an area with bunched-up lights, hidden well on the rural lands of Scanderoon. "They're such an annoyance, really. I wonder if a small flame could make things worse for them."

"Is that a threat?"

The guns from the two henchmen pointed down at Jack when she stepped forth. But her stern expression stayed still, a standoff against the man's grin. Yes, her cage was rattled but not completely.

"Are you sure you don't remember me?"

All he got was silence and the threatening glance telling him to back off. Jack didn't hide anything, nor did she confirm.

"...I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," she explained in a harsh whisper.

The man, Celso, scoffed at her reply. "Well, then. Our boss is an old friend of yours. He can jog your memory." He then 'courtly' opened the bridge's door, a hand forth to let ladies go first. "After you, miss."

The one particular sentence immediately told Jack something was wrong - the sinking feeling became worse. The moment she'd step into the control room, her notion of who this 'Alexander' would be right. As well as the end of her rope.

 _Bail out now._

"I think I'm gonna decline. Way past my bedtime anyway-"

Jack had very little time to react when grubby hands pushed her in from behind. The henchmen forced her inside, Celso shutting the door behind them. The thugs gave her little chance to break free. She was already on the ground, restrained.

"Why. What a beautiful reunion this is."

It was only the back of a lithe-built, tanned man that Jack saw. Just another prisoner from her view, arms folded like a captain. When he wheeled to her, it confirmed her notion. The long hair and long stubble didn't made the face difficult for her to recognize him.

The wariness and dread she had been feeling inside soon turned to pure, swimming, pulsating anger.

"Vlachos."

The look on her face was priceless. He relished in her shock and fury.

"Come now. There's no need to be formal. We're still friends."

The man's voice was persuasive - spoken in a foreign accent not indigenous to Turkey - it was calm, but carrying clear threat behind the slithering tone. The aura he alluded was as deadly as a corporate shark.

"Let's catch up, shall we?" he began, leaning against the dashboard like a slimy businessman at his desk. "How long has it been? Two years already?"

The chitchat didn't influence Jack to join in. So he continued on.

"I was surprised when my men told me that you, of all people in this world, entered our little tournament. But then again, you always were the kind that did the impossible-"

"You should have been moved," she hissed. "Why are you still in Scanderoon?"

"Really? After so many years working together, Jane?" The laugh was deceivingly effusive and sanguinely ice cold. "Oh sorry. It's 'Jack Brecken'. 'Mad Jack'. 'The Wild Dog'."

It was the same kind of techniques Jack used - get the conversation going for the other to slip and spill a bean or two. Powerful to pull at the right strings and get the topic going her way. But she was silent, her expression telling the big boss it was pointless to pry out old news.

"Right. Why haven't I been transferred... I heard things got real slow at the office. Something about 'transfer papers' being lost."

"That's a load of _bollocks._ "

"Just because I'm in prison, doesn't mean I'm cut off from _all_ my contacts. Hm-hm," he chuckled softly. "So my stay in Scanderoon was much longer. And, well, when this virus hit this city…an opportunity presented itself and I decided to take it. Build something out of the rumble around us."

"Hence why everyone's been calling you that _name_."

He nodded shamelessly. "Nice, isn't it? Alexander the Great. A fresh new start to life."

'Alexander' took no offense from her curl of the lips at how disgustingly condescending he was. If she could have been freed, she would gladly punch him off his royal throne.

"Now, your turn. I thought I'd never see you alive in this epidemic. But I didn't think you'd go back to the game." Vlachos sniffed bitterly but still wore his beam. "Is this another one of your retrieval jobs? Whose lunchbox did I take this time?"

"None of your business."

"Ah. Right, right… Client confidentiality. This brings back memories. Just like ole times."

"Old times?" Her voice was full of spite, fists curling in so tightly. "You're so fucking full of yourself."

"Now, there's no need to be hostile. You've changed. So have I. I'm a better man than before. Prison life gave me time to think. And I have your friends to thank." Alexander then pondered. "What was the names again? I've forgotten but they were the whole reason you put me in jail… Right, first was your manager. Then there was that loud-mouthed boy and the new champion-"

"Come near them and I'll put your head up your fucking arse," she snapped warningly.

The threat, however, didn't make a dent into Alexander. Just ushered out a chuckle. But it did invite the hilt of a rifle from one of her captors.

"Uh-uh!"

The low blow was stopped before it could even hit Jack's abdomen. His two henchmen looked back, puzzled. Slightly afraid they had touched a nerve by even attempting to bring harm to the boss's guest.

"You can try that," Alexander warned gladly. "But you're just giving her the chance she needs."

Damn it. He saw through it.

"It's admirable." The two henchmen tightened their security on Jack as the Greek criminal paced slowly, methodically towards her and kneeled down. She despised the expression she read off the man's face. "After all these years, you're still acting as the responsible teacher. Tell me, did everyone stay by your side even to the end?"

 _Don't listen._

 _That's how he worms into you._

 _He twists the words around, shapes the emotions to his liking._

It has been something Jack has done many times. However, the sly man before her was _very dangerous_.

He hummed at the silence. He wasn't going to get an answer. "It's easier to discard simple ties. Nobody gets hurt from knowing how bad you are… I do miss the old you. You were so grateful-"

"Grateful?" A chuckle erupted out from Jack, a sliver of her Wild Dog persona coming out. "You are the last person I want to see." She shouldn't have. It was nothing more than provoking from the man.

"How touching. Are you're still angry with _that?_ "

Boiling. It took every ounce of her strength not to carelessly answer the question.

"Well... I won't deny it. I took everything from you. Because you know why? I'm the one who made you, the _real you_. I owe you. I still do after all these years. And I can destroy you just as you did to me."

Now she was in deep shit. The subtle, seething animosity had finally slipped out.

Hate.

It was a hate that had been cooking for three years, distorted into pleasure to see her fall.

As many times as possible. As many chances as he could get to push her off the edge and be smashed on impact.

"Why did you ever think you could walk out of here alive?"

A sense of curiosity was present in his voice. The cold smile told her the reasons: he wanted to understand her objectives walking into a den of lions, he wanted to know who 'asked' her to enter the competition, he wanted every single piece of information.

So he could smite everything down even after Jack was done and gone.

He then shrugged his shoulders. This was a brick wall like always. No point in hammering it down further when it wouldn't budge. All it left were just dents.

"It doesn't matter if you came out top tonight. Nobody wins anyway."

"Figures," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Basically, there aren't any no winners. All bets goes to you."

He nodded. There was no shame. The first step of rising back from the ashes - making some profit first from foolish men.

"And that's why we can't have a winner for tonight's show."

The same rifle now pointed the barrel at her side-

"No," the big boss stopped the henchman with an open palm out - the deceptive sublime calm in his voice was enough of a warning for the two henchmen to stand their grounds. "If she's dead here, everyone will get upset. We have a reputation to hold. Take her back to the ring. Mad Jack has one last fight left in her."

The ex-kickboxer struggled again, trying her best to free her arms and escape. Anyhow. Or maybe being taken back to the arena could have the opportunity she was looking for.

Regardless, her time was shortening. They saved her the grace of shooting her in the back by trading it for another infected killing her. All for the 'show' to keep going.

"You're still making the same mistakes again," Alexander chuckled. "This is why you've never been able to strive for more, Jack. You still hold onto those weaknesses of yours."

He gave the nod and the two loyal men dragged the outraged woman out.

 _Fuck you!_

Out into the deck, Jack was hurled away. A nuzzle into her back was an attempt to mellow her down during the transportation. But she gave no such agreement back, only for her feet to be less resistant to cease moving.

What really stoked the seething temper like taunting the fire with a stick was Celso outside, leaning back with his hands in pockets. The smirk said it all - she was a dead woman now.

"See ya around, Jackie."

 _And fuck you too!_ she thought loudly.

She could have cursed back. She could have screamed like a desperate, crying woman. It would make such lovely music to Celso' ears. But alas, the once-renowned fighter of the 21st century has an unbreakable mask - she never knew the word, 'quitting'.

Celso remembered that about her. A feat that had made her the person she was to this day. Regardless, whatever opponent she would be tossed in with would surely make her quit.

Permanently.

* * *

"You're crazy."

"I'm telling you the truth!"

The sharp whispers were enough to stir Crane out of his slumber. How numb his whole body felt.

"That thing just spoke. Even the guys above swore they heard it."

"Then they're all crazy too. Ain't most of Cel's crew from Block B?"

It took a slow climb back onto his feet but the effect was still too much that he had to steady himself - managing to grab onto a bar of some sort. It took every ounce to shove out the needles in his muscles and the fog in his brain. Once Crane's vision came back, he came to the realization he was in a cage.

Somewhere unfamiliar. The light was dim but he could make out some factors. Everywhere was metal, even the ceiling and the floor. Besides the mumbling of two men - the ones from the group of trappers that caught Crane - he heard the sound of waves crashing and nearby groans and hisses.

How long had he been out? And what was this place? Within the strange room, he could make out other cages, tall and short, the shadows shifting unnaturally from the fluorescent light.

"Look. That thing muttered something in its sleep." One of the trappers pointed at Crane. "And just now, I heard it again. A lady's name. I'm not crazy."

"I didn't hear anything. You're still affected after what happened-"

"Of course! This thing killed the others!"

And Crane would gladly add the number. As soon as he could find a way out of his predicament.

"Zombies are zombies. Remember what that one guy from Cell 208 said? He heard a Viral said "wait" and got his face eaten off. They're just trying to bluff you, man," his companion tried to reason with him.

"Hey." Another thug in orange entered the dark scene dumping something nearby and walked to the two chatterboxes. "Entry #13, right?"

The something dumped aside - a plastic box - had two things that looked very familiar. A sling bag and pouch bag, along with over random things - a cassette player spilling out from the rough disposal by the man.

Didn't that woman carry these on her? She even used that crowbar.

"That's us," a fourth, the recently appointed packleader Crane saw before he was knocked out, joined in.

"Where's Khan? Thought he was taking the lead."

"Dead. Got killed by this freak."

"A-And half of our team," the wimpy prisoner added, unable to tear his eyes off Crane.

"Is that a Volatile?"

"Dunno," the leader continued. "Never seen anything quite like it before."

The prying eyes couldn't make it any more uncomfortable for Crane: an exhibition of a rare specimen to onlookers. He purposely gave a low growl, hoping that would be enough of a warning for them to back off.

Thankfully, the stares lasted for a short while.

"Alright. Follow me then. He's being picked to go against tonight's contestant."

"Contestant?" one of the trappers repeated. "Thought the match was over."

All Crane could do was watch, standing far back in his cage as possible. His containment shifted as one trapper used an industrial hand-pull cart to move it. Enough distance that a flay of an infected's arm couldn't stretch out.

"A woman managed to survived all six rounds. But since you lot got a new one, Alexander gave the OK to let this thing in."

"A woman? No way. No one can fight these freaks of nature."

"This one just did. Damn woman is a psycho. Heard she was a kickboxer."

Out of the large room of caged walkers, they were down a hall but everything so far was unfamiliar to Crane. But wherever he was, it was busy - like a well-oiled system. Guards stood at selected positions, men were moving about supplies, corpses and firearms. He even spotted a fallen Demolisher at a corner, his head blundered open.

Two prisoners on duty pulled a dolly away. But it wasn't another cage. The heavy content were random things like money, valuables, junk, etc. But the only thing that stood out to Crane were six rectangular crates. Red, durable plastic outside. Grey Styrofoam material inside. One lid was loosely unhinged open and with a quick peek, Kyle saw numerous vials.

Antizin.

Crates of Antizin.

"Hey," the leader spoke out. He had spotted the passing cargo. "Where do we get our payment?"

"Those are from tonight's winnings. Hands off," the guard warned. "Nobody takes from the bet bag. This way."

Crane memorized the turns. Left. Right. Left again. Then down a long narrow hall with streams of light at the end. It was some docking area from the looks of it, with three, four other cages of different sizes. Cheers and cries came from somewhere beyond the light.

"Here's Khan's group, Director."

Another prisoner came into the picture, wearing a vest and a wide smile.

"Entry 13. Unlucky number."

"Catchy, isn't it? Anyone who fights this thing is already unlucky," one of the trappers sold on the idea.

The smile drooped down once the 'Director' took a better look at Crane. Curious, just like any other gaze but there was also a growing sense of disappointment. "Rather docile looking."

"No, no. Believe me. This thing's a new type. Deadlier than a Night Hunter. Literally stalked the other trappers."

Seriously? Stop making him into more of a creep, Crane grumbled inside his head.

"That's why the price's doubled." The leader then cut between the cage and the man in the vest. Business as usual - couldn't let anyone come near the new merchandise. "This freak killed eight men. It's worth a lot more than the usual rate."

"And?" the Director rebuffed. "Many infected have killed people-"

"It's double or nothing for your show," the leader threatened close at him. Yeah, like convicts would work out a good business without fingers broken.

Under the tense moment, Crane waited. Someone had to give. And he was betting on the chaos to give him away out.

The Director then beamed, ready to strike down the deal.

"Alright. I've heard your proposal."

The packleader smirked.

He didn't see the referee steal a pistol from the guard and aimed at his temple.

 _BANG!_

The body dropped. _Thud_. The other infected locked up in their cages wailed and howled.

"The usual rate," the Director coolly stated as he tossed the hot gun back to the guard. "No more, no less."

The two trappers didn't oppose, all too overwhelmed at their dead ally. Not even given enough time to collect themselves as they were shooed off by the guard.

As for the Director, he glanced back at lucky 'Thirteen'. No regret, no guilt, nothing but the uncanny glee at the main attraction and not the crime - the typical traits of a psychopath.

"Make sure to kill our contestant, won't you?"

And Crane could see he wanted a bloodbath.

"Let's a-go," the Director sang before disappearing off somewhere. His nearby lackeys then moved the cage closer to the thin beams of light and prepared the needed requirements. From opening the door to his cage to buckling the sides down, all prevention to go anywhere but forward. Outside the shut gate before him was a scene a little familiar to him - an arena with people cheering and bloodstained walls.

 _Oh, great,_ Crane thought distastefully. Was he going to go against a Demolisher again?

"Alright, folks!" the cocky madman's voice boomed everywhere and nowhere. "It's not over yet! We got a special event for this one time only! Put everything you got on our newest catch of the day! Recently dropping by the marketplace, a new kind of zombie we've never seen before. So give it up for unlucky Thirteen the Night Freaker!"

A groan escaped from the rising gate in front of Crane. No. Like hell was he going out there-

"Get a move on, fucker!"

 _Tssww!_

"Gargh!"

2000 volts started at his side, then ran through his whole body in seconds. Recoiling to the pain by a modified police baton turned cattle prod, Crane found himself right out of his cage. The spotlights above almost blinded him and gradually, he took in the ruthless sight of the arena and the yelling audience.

"And coming back for the _seventh_ match, our champion of tonight's show, let's welcome her back to end the night for us! Maaaad Jack!"

On cue, pushed out from a second gate by force was the familiar woman in red. Battered, bruised and catching her footing. Once she steadied herself, she faced her opponent.

He couldn't see the eyes but he could tell the woman never expected to see 'Freakazoid ' again. Talk about a twist of fate. Crane couldn't agree more with that either.

The situation was grimmer than he originally thought. Now he had to save this woman from whatever mess she got herself into. These convicts were screaming for her death - by Kyle's own hands. And she didn't look in any good condition to keep going.

However, the woman's surprised was replaced by an unreadable expression. Intimidating. Reeling for a fight. No way. Was she really going to go along with this madness?

Although, she might have had a reason. The moment Crane was forced into the arena, his senses were overwhelmed by the alluring scent again. His teeth ached and absentmindedly, he gave out an aggressive snarl - Kyle had to snap out of his sudden drugged state with a shake of the head.

Wait, no. He hadn't gone off the rail yet-

The crowd suddenly became increasingly aggravated before he could voice that out. Disappointed even. Some even loudly called the new monster a 'defect'. At one corner of her eyes, Jack spotted the Director way up in the audience giving a passing command.

The lackeys behind the stage obeyed with another throw of the blood packets.

 _Blop, blop, splash, splash!_

Freakazoid sidestepped but a bit of the crimson drug fell on his legs. In a matter of seconds, he bore the same signs as the Volatile she fought. But unlike her previous foe, there was a strong struggle. An internal war against the feral roots.

He was resisting. Hopelessly begging her to run with those amber eyes. But that wasn't going to help anyone.

"Alright. If that's how we're gonna play."

Jack readied her fists. Blocked out all the unwanted noise above her again. Ignored the aches in her muscles.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Freakazoid," she taunted, spying the tormented gaze from him. "We've got a show to perform."

Don't, his expression read. He'd kill her.

"C'mon. You've been real pissed at me, haven't you? All the...the punches. The smart-talking. The brainwashing."

Then the concern in his wide golden eyes washed into something else. The struggle diminished out but Freakazoid didn't start a pounce. The spectators' hollers grew more impatient for something to happen. Anything.

"Yeah. I'm a sodding barrier to you! All that whining, telling me to stop? Please. I never was on the same page as you were."

 _Come on and do it! Stop stalling any longer!_

"So come and bite off my face, Shy Guy! Stop me before I drag more people in! Stop me from finding a cure!" she taunted again.

Finally, the monster readied himself. That brought out Jack's toothy grin.

"C'mon! **_C'mon_** , you fucking, two-faced coward!" Mad Jack hollered. " ** _COME AT ME!_** "

Freakazoid lunged.

"RAAARGH!"

And the arena completely fell silent in one go.

Then it exploded.

The prisoners behind the fence spurred on their thundering cries, literally jumping out of their seats. "Death, death, death!" some madly chanted like a spell, just as a measure in case bad luck would come. After all, their patience has been paid this second time. They've struck it rich with this last fight.

Because Mad Jack laid on the crimson red dirt, dead.

It was quick and swift that did her in - a bite to her jugular from the new infected monster. And the beast stayed as it was, teeth hinged down on her neck. Warm, fresh blood gushed from her chest, a pool beneath the fighters.

Not even the great ex-champion could survive a seventh fight after everything she had gone through the night.

It brought a delightful, sinister beam to the Director's face. Good riddance to the wisecrack.

"And gents, we have come to the end of the show! Give it a round of applause to our new zombie friend and winner, _Thirteen!_ "

The roars grew louder. Yes, that was what the Director wanted. The crowd's satisfaction. That meant his reputation was growing. It was all about showbuzz, no need for pity over a few maggots who bet their lives away against the impossible.

That was how legends were made. The woman was just daft - nothing but old news.

Sure, he saw an opportunity for her. How many suckers would flock to see a fighter, and a woman at that, try to survive waves of hordes? It would make the profits skyrocket.

Alas, she had to _stupidly_ decline. The Director couldn't have been more than happy to receive a radio call from King Alexander to have her pitch against another monster. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. The _bitch_ kicked the bucket. And if she had survived, well, they'd have to gun her down.

Thankfully, it never came down to that. A disappointed audience made an unhappy Director with a cut pay. This zombie gig was far more profitable than when the world didn't burn now. They were all free to fall back into their roots without anyone stopping them but the walkers - the prisoners of Scanderoon would make a name in history for survival.

Or himself. He could only dream and normally, he made those dreams into reality by treading on the backs of others.

The Director straightened up his collar and marveled at the fallen woman. She did live by her name, mad to shout such nonsensical things and mad to fight against a freak like that in the arena. Now the strange creature could enjoy feasting on her fresh corpse.

"Well, Jackie. It was nice while it lasted." Then he held up his mic. "Alright! Clean-up on Aisle 1! And bring Thirteen back to his cage. He deserves a good night's rest."

The Director tossed away the microphone, giving a piercing sound through the speakers but he was already off with a hum.

That was all, folks.

* * *

A/N: 04/01/20 Both revamped and reedited this chapter.

Hello all into the new year of 2020! I actually was hoping to upload this soon but holidays and struggling with dialogue got in the way. This is a new year and with DL2 coming somewhere in mid-year (oh boy I expect to be wrong on a loooot put in this fic with that new book of lore coming), I hope to get as much done with this fanfic as possible. I'm only closing into the end of the prologue arc but here's hoping it'd be quick with the next arc's flow.

Moreover, I am really happy with this new version for the chapter. The prisoner characters (except for the one-shot thugs) really were fleshed out more than before. Celso was supposed to be the main antagonist but has been put as Vlachos' right man. Speaking of Savvas Vlachos, this is my refined main antagonist for most of the Descent and he'll play a huge part on not just Jack but also Crane down the line. Who he is and how he contributes to the whole Descent story AND even Dying Light will be an interesting plot to work on. How much of a prick is he going to be like Rais or be something worse? Not absolutely sure yet but so far, I'm liking how the first impression for his character came out. Duman will also return in a side-quest story as I have plans for his character arc too. If you want him. Still trying to figure out how to do my side-quest chapters later down the line without interrupting the main plot.

Anyhow, enjoy this chapter! Another side note: I'll be going back to my chapters for some minor changes like replacing Freakoid with Freakazoid. Sounds better.

Also, there would have been a tumblr link here to some of my artwork but you know how FFN is with links. You can check some of them up posted/reblogged at my Descent blog, dlthedescent at tumblr.

Enjoy!


	10. Chapter in the works

**Chapter being revamped** \- You can still skip this and continue on with the old version story. However, there will be inconsistencies because of the old and new chapters. So please be patient for the revamps.


	11. TEN: TO DAWN

**TEN: TO DAWN**

The rich smell of iron and dirt was everywhere. It was making Crane feel high in the head like he had been drugged. He could feel himself off the rails again - the other side of him having a stronger grasp on his body. Like a tiger having the taste of human flesh and now it couldn't have enough of it. It needed more.

Worse, something was yelling at him to do it, to come after her. And it wasn't even inside his skull.

But then the taste of something foul and bitter made some sense come back to him. It was horrid to his taste buds but his teeth still wouldn't unhinge.

Actually, it was more like a hand underneath him was gripping his worn shirts, stopping him from backing off.

"God, this reeks," he heard someone speak out. From behind. Leaving from the gate he was shoved through. "This is gonna take weeks."

A small fragment of his mind knew what was going to happen - they'd be zapping him like cattle and herding him into one of those cages he had been locked up until his release. Escape, the other side was telling him to do. Slingshot his way up and over the fence, that would be the best option.

But-

"Front's heavily guarded," the soft whisper seeped into his right ear. "We'd be swiss cheese if we leave from there."

The sparks of the man-made electric prods could be heard closely behind him. He needed to act now. But the grip wouldn't let him go.

"Only way out is through the gate you came from. They brought you in here somehow."

Yeah, he vaguely remembered how he got here. The prisoners had a boat.

"And that's likely where they're keeping the Antizin."

Crane hunched an eyebrow. What, why the need for Antizin at a time like this-

"There's a group of people who really needs it." Jack swallowed between gasps. "I don't know where but I'm gonna find it with or without you."

 _Are you crazy?!_ he thought. Not loudly for her to catch it but even he found that ludicrous.

"Alright, you creepy fuck. Enough of playing with your meat," warned his captor.

But he wouldn't back off, his ear kept down as close as possible as he kept a careful eye on the surrounding four men.

He should cut his ties now and run, argued the other voice.

"Maybe it does seem pointless looking for a solution to this whole outbreak," she hissed. "But I'd rather die trying than give up. That's what everyone is doing."

Crane glanced down at the woman. Alive. Her life was in his hands - well, jaws. And this time, he found himself locked in her stern gaze behind her sports sunglasses.

"How about you? Are you done trying?"

Trying?

He had been done with it. He had tried again and again, looking for the answers this woman was searching. And trying got him nowhere. But...surprisingly, this annoying persistence from her was catching up on him.

He wanted to try.

"Hey!" the thug taunted.

"What are you doing, talking to that thing? It's a zombie."

"Just hurry up and move him! I wanna beat this woman's corpse until there's nothing but mush."

Ok. Crane was in. Not completely because he was running through the chances of them surviving in his head. There was still the problem of _getting out of here alive!_

"Guy to your left," she whispered. "I busted up his shoulder earlier."

The one who yelled the men to hurry had an arm in a sling, sending a cold, angry glare at the body of Jack.

"She's already dead, man."

"I don't fucking care," he barked. "I'm gonna do every single horrible thing to her damn fucking body. Now get off, you stupid zomb-"

Crane unhinged off the woman - Jack letting out a gasp - and turned sharply around. In a split second, the man froze at the sudden change.

"SRRAAAARHHH!" the Hunter roared, the strong burst like a gust of wind. Tendrils fired right out of his claws and onto the loudmouth. Instead of leaping forward, Crane hurled him right off his feet and into one of the capture teammates. _Crack!_ went the injured man's neck on impact.

One prisoner quickly wheeled about-face. "Shit-!" Then all of a sudden, the taser prod in his hand didn't move.

Jack had immediately seized the long pole, avoiding the high voltage. With a sharp kick to the stomach, the thug was thrown off and Jack was now dangerous with the device. She jammed it into one captor on her left, right into his mouth.

"Kafph! Gah! Gack!" Jack finally coughed out and proceeded to massage her throat. If those teeth had sunk any deeper, she'd really be a goner. "Geezus. I thought you were really gonna kill me!"

" _Blegh! Phootey!_ " Crane finally spat out the disgusting, odd, iron taste from his mouth. " _Why the hell do you taste terrible?!_ "

"Oh, excuse me!" she snapped. "Sorry I'm not to your liking. Want me to put salt and pepper for the next meal?"

Well, whatever it was, it somehow snapped him back. The moment he put the chompers on her, the odd taste woke something back up inside.

"W-What the hell? Are you loco?!" the last captor hollered at Jack.

"Shaddup, you're one to talk!" Then Jack quickly hurried down, picking up a throwing knife from the body of the fallen prisoner. With a swift throw of the wrist, before the thug could get to the fighter's gate, she hit his back and down he went, screaming in agony.

The crowd above them rattled louder, some out of shock, some out of "what in the world is going on?!". There was no Director on the scene to calm the storm, only several armed guards telling them to sit down or get out.

"Let out some of the infected!" someone yelled.

Jack was rushing over to the trashed door, failing to notice someone in the darkness opening up a cage at the side.

 _BAM!_ "Gah!" she shrieked at the barrier shaking. A red-muscular claw thrust out through the gaps.

" _Hey! Lady!_ "

Jack wheeled round at the Freakoid's urgent thought-yell. And she immediately saw the firearms point at them from the audience.

"What are you waiting for?! Shoot them!" one man nearby yelled.

There was a pause in the chaos. Guess the shooters thought the fence was enough for protection-

Fence?

"Fence!"

Crane wasn't too sure why when she suddenly hollered that word. But Jack was down, pillaging off the bodies around them. She picked up a grappling hook and a pistol.

"The fence! Pull it!" she yelled.

" _O-Oh!_ "

Thankfully, because of all the previous fights, the barricade had been battered down by the Brawler and the Demolisher. She hooked onto one of the broken ends. Crane followed - his tendrils seizing the other. And just as the armed men on the other side were ready to fire-

 _Keee-keee-KLANK!_

The enclosure plummeted forth, together with a portion of the audience and the gunmen falling in. Like lemmings over a small five-inch cliff.

 _Ok, isn't this a bad idea?_ Crane thought. They were just adding more numbers down in this pit.

"Here! Catch!"

 _Splosh!_

"Gaack!" One prisoner was soaked in red from the broken blood bag thrown purposely at his feet. She had snuck two inside her hoodie before the fights - one busted open by Freakoid when he pounced on her.

"Keep them busy!" she hollered at Freakoid.

" _Wait! What?!_ " But Jack was already off at the broken gate. " _Ah, shit!_ "

The first armed man got up but the tendrils were faster than his trigger finger. Just like before, Crane swung his grabbed prey right into the pack of people, watching them tumble back down onto the bloody ground - their brown uniforms darkening. And boy, was the scent making him really wanna tear them apart even more.

Wait, was it the blood?

 _CLANK!_ He heard that sound from behind. With a glance over his shoulder, he eyed Jack suddenly backing away from the other entrance, the door off its hinges.

"Chow time!" she hollered madly.

"GAARGH!"

Swooshing through were two Volatiles, diving into the red-covered crowd. They were famished, the night and the scent of blood bringing out their wild, savage side. But Jack didn't stick around to watch the carnage. Once the door was opened, she quickly darted into the tunnel, ignoring the wails and gunshots behind her.

" _Hey! Lady, Wait!_ " Crane wasn't going to stick around. He swooshed right in, passing large cages packed with 'undead' contestants racking their claws through the gaps.

And up ahead was a downed man. Then, a second one. And another. It wasn't that difficult to look for her - with the trail of incapacitated criminals. He finally caught up around the bend, spotting her frantically searching.

"All men, get me that fucking woman! _Dead!_ And make sure she doesn't get our cache!" a voice boomed over the speakers.

"Fucking bastard," she cursed. "Of course he'd do that."

" _That's not good,_ " Crane pointed. " _We gotta get outta here-_ " And again, she was off. " _Hey! Wait! Are you listening to me?!_ "

"I'm not leaving without that Antizin!" she snapped.

" _We can always find that elsewhere! Somewhere safer-_ "

Then he noticed it at the corner of his eye. Beyond a few walls, he noticed a few men oddly positioned lower than they were. Two were on guard, two were loading objects onto a separate small and shaking platform.

" _Crates?_ "

"What?"

But they were small in size, enough to keep something even smaller safe and secured. And those men were taking something away.

" _Right! There's a pier to your right!_ "

Jack forced herself to a stop, uncertain why that was an important point. But there was a click in her head and she ran down to the direction, along the large container-walls.

And right in sight was what looked like a secluded area of an open-air boathouse with two men in front of the sprinting duo.

"Shit! Shit! Close the gate!"

What was between the two and the gang was a storefront metal door slipping down fast. However, Jack suddenly pitched something at it.

 _Thud!_ Metal hit metal. A small axe had been thrown in at the right, precise time - halting the door from fully closing. Jack kept at her speeding momentum and skidded right under like a baseball batter sliding to home base.

One man stood by the door's button, baffled. And up she pushed herself with her kinetic energy, a foot smacked into his jawline.

The second guard barely had his gun on her. The distance was too far for her to rely on close-hand combat so Jack took aim and fired two rounds right at his chest. Two more men came around the corner of a boat hung up by pulleys. She also took them down before they had much of a chance to retaliate.

With all the danger gone, she searched frantically.

"Antizin, Antizin, Antizin-" Her eyes gleamed at the side of the familiar medical logo on six boxes. " ** _Antizin!_** "

In a small section of water was a small boat where the two men were loading up the crates. This might mean once a night of betting was done, all of the riches these people had gathered would be hurled away off to wherever Cel's main quarters could be.

"There she is!" Popped around the corner was a new face. And the nuzzle of a pistol.

 _BAM! BAM!_

"CRIPES!" Jack quickly ducked behind the hull of a small boat, turned upside-down and left alone. The bullets scratched the wood and over her head.

Crane quickly slid under the metal door, grabbing her axe in mid-dash and swooshed right next to her. Holy shit, the amount of fire they were giving to protect their loot.

" _Here._ " He tossed her weapon back to her - there was no point for him to use it, he could easily deal more damage with his fists than with a weapon. " _We can't stay here any longer._ " He spotted beyond the walls a few new humans coming their way, twenty feet charging. " _More are coming._ "

"Really? The more the merrier," she jested.

" _Seriously?_ " he groaned. " _Look. I'll be a distraction, you shoot them._ "

"I don't do guns."

Crane's eyes widened. " _What?_ "

Jack glanced back, serious eyes peeking over her shades as she instead holstered the gun to the back of her belt. "I. Don't. Do. Guns."

It left him confused, shocked. He couldn't comprehend what he just heard. As Jack hopped over the hull, all he could do with struggling shakes of his hands was shout, " _What do you mean you don't do guns?!_ " He quickly joined her on the enclosed battlefield. " _Everyone here uses guns!_ "

It was true. The added four men inside were armed but the distance inside the cramped space was small in proximity. The ex-champion was right up into one face, dodging the bullets. One sharp wrist to his jawline and seizing his arm behind his back forced him to be spun around. Jack let the wild firing commence - the stray shots hitting the thug's comrade.

As she gave a hard kick at the back of his knee, finishing him off, Crane was already on the next one. He felt two shots graze across his hardened skin but all of his focus was on keeping the lady alive.

The last man stood alone at the far back, his uncertainty switching between targets. He had no backup. One side was a madly-grinning woman itching to tackle him down and a monster with piercing golden eyes and blood-covered teeth.

"Aaaah!" he screamed and escaped through the back door. Crane didn't give chase and instead locked the exit up, pulling down a metal rack for good measure.

"C'mon!" she hollered, already hearing more commotion outside. This was probably the best time to leave. Hoisting the rope off the mooring, Jack leaped on board and went for the engine.

 _BAM! BAM!_ The door rattled violently with every shoulder shove.

One pull, two pull and the engine roared. Once the Freakoid climbed aboard, Jack steered the boat right out of the boathouse.

 _CRASH!_ The door flung open. And Celso was among the pack of gunmen.

"Stop them!"

The bullets of AK 47 fired blindly.

" _Get down!_ " Crane pushed her head down, caring less of her yelling a "Hey!" at him. Nothing hit so far.

Well, except him. He felt them hit his back alright - but if he had to see one good thing about this new body, it was that he had hardened skin to pillow down the shots.

The prisoners with guns yelled out their curses and anger. It didn't seem like they were gonna hop on boats themselves and give chase too. Not when the haunting screams of the damned were heading to the gunfire. And as the noises dulled out the further the duo got away, Jack glanced back one last time at the man-made fighting ring on the dockyard.

She couldn't believe it.

She got out. With Antizin.

And she burst out in laughter.

"AH HA HA HA! I did it! _We_ did it! We got Antizin!" she screamed. " _AH HA HA HA!_ "

Crane was taken aback by her fanatic energy. That was a close call and they could have _nearly died!_ But that outburst strangely gave him reassurance - they had just survived, and with a large stash, a feat he could barely succeed on his own. Or even imagined.

They lived and it was thanks to this crazy brunette.

He couldn't help but chuckle too.

* * *

"Well, that's the end for this engine." _BAM!_ Jack gave one more boot just for good measure but it didn't come back to life. "Hole punctured the tank. And here I thought I could use this."

It took a long good distance for the duo across the waters until they both believed they weren't followed - then an extra fifteen minutes by boat. And there was a strange gurgling sound from the back. That forced Jack to quickly stir it to the shoreline, for them to hear its final choke.

Crane had quietly taken himself to perch on the red-tiled rooftop of a nearby restaurant to keep an eye out as she tended to the engine. Make sure the other walkers back off from her. Once she was done fiddling with it, she took out her earpiece and made a call.

"Yo, Siv."

" _Jack?_ " The young voice echoed on the other end. " _Omigod, Jack! Where have you been?_ " Then there was a cough as if the runner was clearing her throat. " _You should have given us a call!_ "

"I had a busy night," Jack pointed quite literally. "Got a big present with your name on it. It's waiting at a pier for your runners. I think this is a resort?"

" _Wait,_ " Siv uttered softly, then the volume changed for the next two sentences. " _Hold on! You found Antizin?!_ "

"Six crates worth. That should last enough for a while."

" _I-I don't believe it!_ " The teenager was trying to find the right words and express her bewilderment. " _H-How?_ "

"Well." Crane didn't peek back - he could already feel the ex-kickboxer glancing up at him. "I got some help."

" _Help?_ "

"Yup. A runner was passing by in the neighborhood. Packs a real good punch too. Couldn't have done it without him."

That was a rather nice compliment coming from her and also weird to hear it from a person like her. He was expecting her to talk shit about him. Or take all the praise to herself.

" _That's good. We need all the help we can get._ "

"Eeeeh, he's pretty much a shy guy. Don't think he'll be walking by the Junction any time soon."

" _Ok, now that's exaggerating. In more ways than one,"_ he mumbled to himself.

" _Well, I'll wake Beta team up and send them over. It's the Karst Spring resort, right?_ "

Jack searched about for a name, anything. However, she was quick to realize how familiar this side of the resort was. "I think it's the Blueside Hotel. Stayed here for a few nights before."

" _Got it. And that guy? Let him know…thanks. And you too, Jack. Thank you_. _Really._ "

"I think he already knows."

With the end of the call, Jack joined him up on his perch - feet swaying up and down over the edge with her perky grin. "Well, that was rather an eventful night." All the aches in her body told her just how much of a measure it really was.

He raised an eyebrow at the lady. Seriously, she was that daring to sit right now to a Hunter? No, wait. Yup, she was serious. So he did nothing of the sort to push her away.

" _...I still can't believe it,_ " Crane confessed.

"What? Escaping from big thugs with guns and zombies at the side? Sounds pretty normal to me."

" _No. Well, yes. I mean, getting all that Antizin._ " He peered back at the stack on the boat. Six small crates. That was the most he'd ever made during his time in Harran. And in one night. " _...I've barely gotten a few bottles myself...you know, back when I was human._ "

"Really?" Jack droned. "To be honest, I thought I was walking out of there with just two or three bottles." She hunched forward, glancing at the horizon - a mix of red-violet, blue and a seeping orange. "And I couldn't have gotten this much without your help."

Crane almost wanted to laugh - really? A woman crazy enough to take on thugs like those prisoners? But the seriousness in her face stopped him. She meant every word and every gratitude.

" _Just who are you?_ "

She turned back with her Cheshire cat smile. "I'm just a normal Rav member. I do what I can, when I can for people in need. Got to keep a good reputation for the name."

" _Normal. Right. And this group just_ ** _helps_ **_people?_ " he scoffed. " _No way are you that charitable._ "

"And what about you?" she asked. "You sound like you had some history, 'helping people'."

He grimaced silently but Jack didn't push, looking back at the sky.

"You said it yourself, Freakoid. You don't remember much about yourself. But your body still seems to."

His body. Right. Crance glanced at his claws. How the heck did he come back a second time? He was sure he was lost in the head. And she wasn't wrong - he was still quick and nimble, a part of him knowing full well what his morals were. This virus inside him was just giving him a boost in surviving better, under whatever-right-conditions.

Virus. That word reminded him of something.

" _You said you were looking into this virus. Why?_ "

It was there the woman in the hoodie gave him a hard look. As if she was deciding whether to reveal a secret or not. Or two.

Then she simply gave a humph of a laugh. "Yeah. Why not? Who's gonna believe anything from a zombie?"

" _Hey, seriously?_ "

"Alright, then." She was about to jump off and leave. "I'll talk about it another time, when you're not so sensitive-"

" _No. Garh,_ " he groaned. Man, did she really love to toy with him. " _You really believe something's up with this outbreak. What exactly?_ "

She was quiet for a minute. Just to be sure. But the expression Crane gave told her he was as dead set as she was, with a newfound sense of confidence and more importantly, hope. "...Well, for starters, there's been new types of infected in the last few weeks. And I suppose now, you're one to boot."

" _Geez, I'm flattered. What don't I know?_ "

"C'mon. I didn't mean it like that. But it's rather odd for some of these new types to be, well, fresh and new. Like they're evolving." Now that got his attention. And Jack continued. "It sounds crazy but nature's not one to speed things up. It's all too fast for a zombie evolution. A Rav friend of mine back home, he thinks the normal zombie population got into something recently that kickstarted this new trend."

Hm, ok. There was some ground to that logic. After all, Crane himself was one example.

"And it's not just the Biters. It's also the survivors."

Crane examined her sternly at the mention of the word, survivor. There wasn't any obvious sign he could see as easily as a big zit. She was an unturned, normal human, assumedly infected with the Harran virus because of him. " _What do you mean?_ "

She lifted up a leg and rested her chin on her knee. "I'm not obligated to speak on behalf of my fellow members. Some things are too personal and others… Heh. You'd think I'm mad as a hatter."

He narrowed his eyes. Okkk, there was a red flag there that told him he should go. But he stayed firm on his spot. " _Then what can you say?_ "

"Hmmmm… I guess I'll talk about myself." Yeah, Jack thought. Why not? Let's see how well Freakoid takes it. "I _am_ infected after all."

" _Well, of course, you are. I was the one who infected you._ "

A scoff ushered right out of her mouth. "Oh, please. Don't go taking the credit for someone else's work. I was bitten weeks ago."

Crane's yellow eyes widened. At first, he proceeded the sentence as if it were a joke. "What - wait, weeks?!" he did holler out his real voice, glancing the woman from head to toe. " _Ok, if this is another bullshit-_ "

"Now when have I ever bullshitted anyone?" Then she suddenly thought on her own question. "Don't answer that question."

" _You...you... W-Wait, you're on Antizin, right? You have to be._ "

"Hate to burst your bubble there but we had a period where Antizin stopped dropping in Harran. During the week I got bitten." It was so easy to read how much disbelief the monster sitting next to her had written on his face. Yet Jack stood by her words. "I'm telling the truth." She pulled down the bandages off her left upper arm. And right on the skin, clear as day was the evidence.

A bite wound. A healed bite mark, probably more than three days.

"What the shit," was all Crane could gasp as he grasped the arm, just to make sure it wasn't an illusion to him.

"And I've not turned yet."

" _H-How is that possible?"_

"Honestly, I'd like to know the answer too. What I do know is instead of turning into, well, like you, I did get _a bit of a change_. Whatever is in me, it's got this poisonous effect in my bloodstream. Every time a zombie's gotten a bite off me, they wound up choking dead. Like eating a box jellyfish or something. And we've done a couple of tests back home before my friend realized what was up with me."

And Crane rolled his eyes. This arrogant, over-the-top attitude. And this story was unbelievable. She was trying to sell him that? " _Ok, now you're being full of it._ "

But her grin was uncannily wider than before. "You said I tasted terrible, right?"

Again, he grimaced. The idea of her devoured by him and her flesh inside him really did make his stomach do flip-flops. " _Hey, look. I'm sorry I tried to eat you. I wasn't right in the head-_ "

"That's the oddest part about you, Freakoid," Jack pointed with a bit of a hum. Then her tone changed to earnestness at a drop of a pin. "You're supposed to be dead."

He gazed at her with a puzzled expression. The word dead hung with a tight grim proverbial vice. But she really meant it. "... _I don't believe you._ " It sounded ridiculous once he connected the two dots together. No way-

"Freakoid, I could barely survive six rounds of zombies nonstop. I wouldn't have lived past the last two. I had to cut my own hands so I could have an advantage." Jack raised up her wrapped up hands, the redness still staining through the bandages. "I even coated a rebar with it, thinking I could use it on one of the big guys." She breathed out a deep sigh. "Of course, it didn't go exactly how I'd planned but it worked out in the end."

Crane was still digesting what he had heard.

"And right now, you're the weirdest one of all. You should have died. And I mean that literally. You're the only infected that has somehow survived my venom, I guess you can call it that."

" _There's no way…_ " He struggled but couldn't think of a rebuttal.

"Freakoid, I bit you." He wheeled back, eyes relatively wide at her sober face. "When we first met, I bit you. And I've had a couple of zombies go down when I do that. But you didn't go down."

Yes. He remembered. _And_ still had the bite mark on him. Crane massaged that area, as if the ache came back.

"It might actually explain why you're ok in the head." Now that was something he couldn't honestly believe. She simply shrugged at his body response. "Hey. I don't really know how this all works. But so far, you've lived twice. And twice, you've stopped being all feral and zombie-like. So something's working."

" _I'd say those were flukes,_ " he pushed. " _Who's to say a third time, this...venom in you isn't gonna stop me?_ "

 _Wait a minute, Crane. What are you saying?_ That meant he might lose it again.

"Or you might finally drop dead. Have you ever heard anyone surviving lightning three times?"

" _That's a completely different thing._ "

"Well, we can always test it if you lose your marbles again, Freakoid."

" _You-_ " he held back a groan. " _Ok, let's say I'll believe it for a second. How is it even possible?_ "

"Like I said before, wish I knew the answer myself. " Another surprise out of this woman. "All I know is I had an epiphany, blacked out and after I woke up, I became like this. And before you ask...I dunno." The silence hung tightly and yet she still persisted with her causal personality. "Lost a whole day of memory a while ago. And nobody back at Base could figure out what happened. Was out for weeks too."

 _Oh. Uh._ Crane wasn't too sure how to respond to that. In the end, all he could usher was a, " _...Sorry._ "

"Eh, I've lost much worse than that." And now he was even more concerned. What _exactly_ did she lose inside that skull of her? "But hey, I did gain this nice, little perk instead."

" _You really think the virus in you has that kind of effect? And_ _I'm supposed to take your word for it?_ "

"Like I said, I don't know. But I've been surviving this long. And it's something I need to look into," she explained. "My boss gave me...this little pet project. I'm supposed to monitor how new types get affected from my venom. Gather blood samples from them if they survive and jot down whatever new things they do."

He recalled back the important note he saw on that phone. " _Why?_ "

She slouched back in her seat, arms on knees. "Another group we know is working on a cure. At least, that's what they've told us over the radio."

Again, the Tower. But Crane forced himself not to ask questions on that subject. " _Ok. What does that have to do with your project?_ "

"It's simple, really. We wanna make sure this 'cure' won't fail on us."

Crane's mouth dropped agap with his eyebrows knitted tightly. And in fact, he felt offended. What was all that running around, trying to get that research back, for?! " _C'mon. This is a cure, right? How can it fail?_ "

Jack didn't share his skepticism. "My friend I was talking about? He's afraid that this virus' adapting too fast for a cure to beat it."

It was something that never crossed his mind. But he thought about it with a terrible feeling.

Before all of this, he truly believed the cure research could solve everything - given time and resources. Of course, he didn't have any knowledge on how pathology works or the whole rundown of how an antivirus was made. That was left to Camden to figure that out.

But if the Harran virus could build a resistance...that could certainly spell disaster for everyone.

"So, I'm collecting all the data he needs. And once we can get contact again with this other group, we can help them out with strengthening this vaccine research."

This other group, Crane instantly took a gander. He was almost hesitant to continue but he really needed to understand how she knew. " _...This group, it's the one you and that radio-guy were talking about?_ " He then added a moment of feinting ignorance. " _The Tower, right?_ "

Jack nodded, this time her fingers tightened at the mention of the name. Still no news from Asem on that either.

" _Why should you be worried about this cure?_ " he then pushed, spin the question around to gain more information. " _At least, one's being made. It sounds like this experiment you're doing is a waste of time._ "

"Well, it's an idea to look into."

" _That might not lead to anything._ "

"Same goes for that cure the Tower's looking into. We don't know the outcome."

Crane groaned. He was trying to fight a wall - who was right too. He had no idea what Cameron's current progress was on the studies.

" _Ok, how_ ** _can_ **_this pet project of yours help?_ " It was really vague, to begin with.

"Well. Think of it this way. How is antivenom made?" She waited but only got puzzlement and silence. "You have an animal take the snake's venom to create-" She purposely let the word hang long, eying him to finish the sentence.

"... _Antibodies._ "

Now he was seeing the connection. With a confident nod, Jack continued. "This _little project's_ all about making immunoglobulin-something. And my venom might be a key to that. That's what Bones said anyway."

 _A key_. That was the thing, both her and this Bones guy didn't sound certain on their own bullshit. And it was riding on this one woman to be doing this assignment _on her own_. These Ravs were also sounding a bit incompetent to leave this whole 'study' on one person. The more he thought on this, the less he was feeling optimistic about it. It was a terribly long shot if anything.

"What? You want to sit around, waiting for any news to come?" Jack asked. Good point. Even he wanted to find out the results. "Especially when there's something up with the virus every day. Not us Ravs. We've been through this outbreak longer than anyone has here and in Harran. No way can we sit this one out."

" _This is crazy..._ "

"Oh, c'mon. There's no harm done."

" _Except to yourself. You really have a death wish to be doing this. **Alone** ,_" he scoffed, lowering down his head. Boy, if he was the normal Crane before, he'd be heading for the hills once he'd listen to this lady's bizzare, loony goal.

"Well. If this project bears fruit, it might help you out too. You're still an oddity anyway."

" _Hah!_ _Do I look like I need help?_ "

"Well, do you?"

He stopped, his curled up fingers opening up at that. He didn't openly want to admit it but he was having a hard time getting around as a sentient infected. He was treated like an animal by his captors after all. He was feared by all, even that poor kid the previous night.

How on earth was he going to last like this-

"...Why don't you hire me?"

Crane glanced at her. " _What?_ "

"Hire me. A Rav is supposed to help people. With compensation, of course."

" _Hmph_ ," he chuckled, almost buying this woman's humor. So he might as well entertain her a good bit. " _People. I'm nowhere close to being considered human_."

"Really? So chit chatting to me isn't human? Well, that's a first."

" _And you're deranged to be talking to me, lady._ "

"Better than no one to turn to. Right? And the name is Jack. Call me Jack."

Crane was baffled. There was so much honesty behind this crafty, insane woman a person wouldn't be remotely sure if she was being sincere or not. "... _You're serious, aren't you?_ "

She shrugged. "I'm always serious. You and everyone else just assume I'm not."

" _W...Why?_ " he forced himself to ask, adding one important fact to her. " _I nearly killed you._ "

"And yet, you didn't. And the second time too."

" _What… How can you trust me that I won't go off the rails again?_ "

"Trust you with my life?" That line surprised him. He was almost certain she would laugh at her own statement. But she didn't. "Freakoid, I'm far away from my own people. And no one except them knows what I'm doing. No one else _can know_ about this project. Or my blood. And now you do. So...that makes you the only one I can fully trust with this 'campaign' going smoothly."

Now when she put it that way, ok, that was a bit too much for his plate. She was really going to let _him_ be her support? Watch her back without thinking it looked delicious to him? He was close to a sheer drop the last time and he could easily take her with him in one go. And this lead of hers, it could possibly end just like his others. Like the 'cure' he sought in the Countryside.

It was one big, crazy burden too.

He was about to say, "are you sure?" but one look told him it was pointless.

"So? What say you?"

He breathed in and out. Unbelievable, it felt like this was all a fantasy - that this woman was a part of his imagination he created.

But maybe that was better than being alone as a freak with no goals in mind - provided he kept his distance from her for a lot of good reasons.

"... _What's the catch?_ "

Jack's grin slowly and steadily weakened, just a bit. It was now a stern, thin line.

"Helping me. To find out everything about this virus. And what's happened to you," she gave her most honest answer. "You seem to know your way about finding things, for a zomb."

He was left stunned. Then he gathered himself. Well, at least he wasn't going need to pay her with money or stuff. But it sounded exactly like what he's been doing the whole time before he was turned.

So was he going to throw himself back into the fire again?

"Sun's up."

The orange rays soaked across the dark sky. Everything in the coastal city was baked under the eerily breathtaking light. The night was over, the terrifying things that preyed on the humans were gone.

Except Crane.

The horrid feeling of his skin burning wasn't as bad as before - if anything, it was much bearable. He had a moment of pain in his eyes once the sunlight pierced over the mountains yonder but his sight quickly adjusted, faster than his first sunlight as a Hunter.

It was as if his body got a bit better dealing with the light. Not great but it was something. That irked him a little, just a little.

He turned back to the woman, Jack. She was looking at the beautiful scene straight on, shades protecting her eyes while she smirked cheerily. She survived another night and it was particularly nothing to her.

Overconfident, much. But maybe having company like her would be...alright - it was the one difference between now and back before he was turned.

Crane wasn't going to be alone doing a big job like this. And with that, he heaved in and out a deep sigh.

"...Alright," he gave his answer verbally. His quietly monstrous voice didn't make much of a dent into Jack's overzealousness. "I'll accept the offer."

"Heh," she chuckled. "Well, then. Guess that makes you an honorary Rav member now."

" _Really? You just give membership like that?_ "

"Unofficially. If you want the dental care and five vacation days, you're gonna have to talk to our leader for an interview." Jack hopped right up on her feet, giving herself a stretch that only prompted out a muffled groan. "Regardless, welcome aboard, Freakoid. We start at two."

Crane raised an eyebrow at that statement - mainly the choice of time - but she had already dropped down to the open-air parlor. " _Wait. Where are you going?_ "

Now it was Jack's turn to look at him like he had grown an extra head. "To bed. What? You think my service is 24/7? I've been up the whole night and right now, I need sleep. And a bath. And some first aid for my bruises." She strolled off with her rambling and a bit of a staffer in her walk. "Maybe some painkillers. Aspirin. Anything for this killer headache."

What an oddbird she was but nothing alarming. And a bit _too trustworthy_ , now that Crane noted it to himself. He was going to have to be careful around her.

Crane jumped down to the lower floor-

His vision suddenly warped. Everything spun around him with shapes and circles of light. He almost lost his footing, having to brace himself down to let the dizzy spell go by. What was this?

This was very much different but at the same time familiar. When did he feel this before? And for a moment, he could have sworn he saw Jack morph and shift into the Mother, her back in red robes towards him.

The dark whispers came back and it wasn't the voice of his other self. Something was wrong-

"Yo, Freakoid."

Then he snapped. Like he had a wake-up call. His whole world went back to normal and Jack was Jack again, glancing at him with a look of mild concern behind her shades.

"You ok?" she asked.

Ok?

Was he?

No, that wasn't a moment where he was losing his mind. He'd gone through twice and he was able to tell now. His mind was just playing tricks on him, right?

He wasn't sure.

In the end, he did what he always did, to give a peace of mind to the other person.

" _Y-Yeah. I'm alright,_ " he lied. " _I'm ok."_

* * *

A/N: Hello, all! I've finally updated this new chapter! Which took a bit of work but I finally got over the hurdle! And yes we have these two numbskulls working together - or in this charge, Crane hiring Jack to be his partner. I guess this is how I can picture the gameplay to be like coop. You have two different characters, Crane sliiightly the same in his but with the zombie boost and Jack being more of the fighter kind of person, and if in a game, you can be either one and the same is said for your partner. And I'd like to think that in an open world, you should have the choice to split up to do small quests or team up on harder ones, divide and conquer. Of course, that would mean a shorter game but I think with the situation on Crane, it offers new ideas on how to approach a quest and work it out.

Meh, I'm just rambling. In any case, I'm also hoping from now on, I have the narration be more focused on Crane, cuz he's the main protagonist to boot. Though like I said, the biggest challenge for him is not to be out with people or else they'll gun it so there are situations Jack's gonna have to take the wheel. Moreover, there's more bout Jack I wanna write so I guess it's gonna be an experiment to keep both narrations around but also have Crane take a bit more of the spotlight. LET'S SEE HOW THAT GOES! Eh.

Also, I'd like to give a shout out to one fic I've been enjoying alot, Shadows of a Dying Light by UranicSubseter34! Please check it out and see a different side of Crane struggling with his new situation and dealing with the monster inside his head! Fanfiction Link: s/12780940/1/Shadows-of-a-Dying-Light

Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Catch ya again!


	12. ELEVEN: A NEW DAY

**ELEVEN: A NEW DAY**

* * *

Sleep was the only bliss Crane could look forward to for the nights, the one chance he could be ignorant of his previous situation - a human trapped inside the thralls of an outbreak - and now of his current condition - a human trapped inside the body of a deadly zombie. The first night, he had pretty much been knocked out. The second was a little better, except for that crazy dream. And now it was the third day.

Despite Jack's little offer for him to sleep at the safehouse - which was rather stupid from her for all the wrong reasons - he had to decline for her own sake. And the UV lights would fry him. So with a goodbye and goodnight from her, Crane departed to a nearby residence for rest too. It had been a long and tiring night for the both of them. It wasn't that difficult to fall asleep, maybe because his own internal clock had been turned around thanks to his body.

However, the moment he drifted into slumberland, he found himself in a very different location. He wasn't indoors but outside - no sign of the coastal tops from Scanderoon or the cityscape of Harran. There was a lot more flora together in harmony with the low-lying buildings around him. If he had to guess, this was the outer part of a town or city.

The worst part was it being filled with people. Normal folks walking by and going on with their day-to-day lives. He should have turned around and fled - he was a danger to people but instead, he didn't.

Because he felt out of place. The streets and even the alleyway he was in had no trace of an outbreak. There was no panic or chaos. It was as if there were never any zombies roaming around for flesh to feast on.

Was this real? Did he somehow manage to come back to normality? That everything he went through was all one big nightmarish dream?

Then he caught a glimpse of her. Among the people walking down the pavement.

"Jack?"

The face was familiar. But it was only a quick glimpse before she disappeared. Curiosity got the better of him as he exited out of the alley.

And there she was, her back to him. No red jacket with that wolf pattern but that shmuck, bold posture was definitely hers.

Then she stopped.

"Alright, you might as well get out. I know you're there."

He froze up. "Sheez, that's real sharp of you-"

"You got a lot of balls to be coming up to me," she said.

"Now hang on." He just came here.

"Isn't your sister going to be mad at you?"

Sister?

"Pft, she's not my mom and neither are you."

His heart dropped at the sound of that voice. He recognized it as clear as the first day he heard it. Crane spun around, almost losing his stability. And immediately, he stopped. Because standing not too far from him was a ghost.

Rahim. Trying to look all tough. In normal clothes, not his usual parkour getup.

Guilt came rushing back for Crane.

"Rahim-" He reached out his hand. A normal, human hand.

"Please. If I was your mother, I'd kick you so hard, you'd land all the way to Down-Under, kiddo."

"Hah! I'd like to see you try."

Rahim ignored Crane. No. He didn't see Crane. One more look on Rahim told him something was off. Rahim looked a little younger by two or three years.

He turned back to the person Rahim was talking to. Not him. A person Crane had never seen before.

No, wait. That _was_ Jack.

Or at least, he thought it was her. The face was the same, without her shades and hood but this different Jack gave out a different demeanor and aura - more languid and 'normal' than her crazy self. She even had her hair medium-cut. For a second, he almost thought that wasn't her to begin with. Could be taken as her normal twin.

Jack also didn't see Crane. His existence between the two was nothing but air. Crane was the ghost in this dream. An entity put in a different part of time.

"Seriously. Do you really talk to your parents with that mouth?"

"You're not family. So don't get all chubby with me," he huffed, trying his best to bluff - boosting his chest out threateningly. Rahim was still the same even in the past. Pig-headed, stubborn, trying to one-up as if he was the adult in the conversation.

Jack laughed, not taking any offense from his attitude. The young lad completely deflated, seeing his attempt failed. "So why are you here? And where was this spunkiness when you were at the gym? You didn't give me lip back then."

"I was only being polite because Jade was there."

"Suuuuure." Even Jack could tell how much of a lie that was.

"Hey, I was."

"Hm-hm... Are you upset about what happened?"

Rahim flinched. She got him.

"It was a fair fight."

"Yeah, right. That stunt wasn't fair."

"And neither was hers midway. It was a tie. Neither of us won anyway."

"That's not my point," Rahim barked. The statement stopped Jack, making her examine the boy a little more. Prying away the layers to understand his motive. She gave a soft chuckle at a realization.

"Protective lil' one, ain't ya?" Jack hummed. And before he could even rebuke to that comment, she turned away.

"Don't call me that - hey!" Rahim bolted up, blocking her path. "I'm no kid and I'm definitely as tall as you."

"Really?" With a cocky raise of an eyebrow, she swished her hand from the top of her head to Rahim's dome a couple of time. "Hm, give it another year or two. You'll catch up."

"What are you, twelve?" Rahim barked, shoving her arm away.

"You're being the immature one here."

There was a strange thing Crane couldn't put his finger on. Past Jack's way of saying...it was very different from Present Jack's. It was more...sane? Was that the right word? Less crazy. Her smile wasn't as Cheshire catty as the present one's but there was that slight playfulness in her.

"Immature?" Rahim uttered angrily, trying to find the right words for a rebuttal. "I'm not in preschool like you are."

"You're acting like a preschooler trying to win an argument. Exactly how old are you?" she asked curiously. She guessed around or sixteen or seventeen.

"I finished high school already!" He grumbled under his breath, now contemplating why did he ever decided to confront her.

"Right. What's gotten your pants in a tight? You wouldn't be talking to me about our fight. And I'm gonna bet you didn't want to ask your sister."

"Whaaat? You read too much into people. Just because you're famous, doesn't mean I need to be all 'well-mannered' to you."

"I'd rather you don't." She drew close, nearly making Rahim jump with hands ready and up. Like he really was gonna fight a pro. "I like this spitfire attitude." She chuckled.

Those innocent eyes went as big as dinner plates. He coughed, clearing the lump in his voice. "Ok. Backing away. Creep level to the max here."

Jack shook her head, still keeping her smile. "I guess you're not grown up yet to tell me off. Better keep a good head. You can't be too shy from anything."

A test. It was just a test. And Rahim crumbled up his frown. "Hey, who are you calling shy?! You threw me off!"

"Do I really need to go talk to your mother about you?" Jack folded her arms. The adult had to come forth now.

"Shaddup. She's no good to talk to anyone today."

Jack hunched her eyebrows. "No good?"

Rahim realized his mistake on the spot, curling in his lips. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. Look. I didn't see you, ok? Pretend you didn't too." He waited for a response, hoping for Jack to accept. "C'mon! Would you stop looking at me like that?"

The waiting was torture. Jack wouldn't stand down. Eventually, he gave up.

"...She's at the hospital. Poor health."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Rahim's gut twisted. He despised those words. Nothing but a broken record and it wasn't the first. "Hope she gets better."

It was a dagger that had already been there and the more Jack spoke, the deeper it got. One glance at the woman told him to calm down. She didn't know the situation but there was no point in yelling at her.

The odd thing was her face. She didn't cast a sad, pitiful expression like most people did at hearing about his mother's condition. Neither was it mocking. Laughable.

She was serious. Serious in meaning her words. Serious in her ways. And serious in her work.

It irked him to ask a question.

"How are you and Jade handling it? Your mother, I mean," she tossed back one before he could do his.

He almost wanted to say, "who wouldn't be handling this ok?". His mom wasn't doing well. But like always, he gave the little white lie, "We're doing ok. She'll pull through."

"And your father?"

"Dunno. He left us when we were young."

"Ah... I'm sorry."

"Pfh," he scoffed with a tint of anger in his voice. "He made his choice. We don't care about him anymore." With one huff, Rahim managed to shove that little pull before it would get the better of him.

It was the silence that made him notice how firm and patient Jack was. She was waiting. A total stranger he and his sister just met wasn't just changing the conversation so that it wouldn't be all so weird to anyone. That it was 'making them feel better', to forget about the grim stuff.

Jack waited, until Rahim was alright to talk.

So he finally asked the question he wanted to ask.

"You're...really going to fight Jade?"

Jack was emotionless, indifferent to the question.

But she understood.

"We signed the contracts. We can't back out of it." Rahim's face told everything. The boy was worried about his sister. She'd give him credit for being protective. "Your sis has been in fights before. The next one doesn't make a difference."

"It's not that. She'll easily wipe the floor with you," Rahim barked proudly.

That didn't sway Jack. "Then what's the problem? You don't want your sister to get hurt?"

Another point on the dot. Rahim was hating the fact Jack was a mind-reader. If only he knew - Jack was a good reader but not telepathic. People give the easiest patterns in their body language, no matter how small they were.

"Can you blame me? You're Mad Jack. The Wild Dog. Of course, I'll be worried about her. Our mom goes crazy whenever she's in a match."

Jack rolled her eyes, finding that fact a little annoying for what it was worth. But she couldn't deny it. "I am not going to kill your sister-"

"No, of course not. I know that after seeing that fight earlier…" He couldn't find the right words. The conversation had to diffuse before Jack would figure it out. Stupid Rahmin, why did he blab it out-

"She's trying to win the match for your mother's hospital bills."

Rahim hunched up his shoulders, casting a dark and irritated look down to the pavement. It was too late. Jack got it right again.

She sighed at such a heavy request. "Well, a lot is riding on this tournament. Lots of bets and shoutouts everywhere. But that's not my call. Your sister has to win this fair and square."

"Right. Fair and square."

"You don't believe your sister will win?"

It was an insult to his ears. He glared angrily at the kickboxer. All the anxiety was gone the moment she said those words - Jack outside wasn't the terrifying woman he had seen on TV, now she was a person who didn't have the right to question his sister's strength. "You be quiet! Jade's gonna win that match with her hands tied behind her back!"

"That's right. The right way. That's what she needs to do. Without her brother asking her opponent to step down."

And that did it. The young, arrogant teenager was put in his place. What Jack said soiled his motive for meeting her. He knew that - he wasn't making it fair for his sister by doing this, at most, it was gonna piss her off. But family was important.

He felt ashamed that he wished he could dig up a hole and crawl in it. But there was no hiding the guilt from Jack.

"Kid. Listen to me when I say this. Going dirty in a fight isn't going to help anyone. Not even your mother." She spotted his fingers tightened. Whatever this family was dealing with, it was a life-threatening problem. Jack wouldn't ask for more questions, wouldn't pry further into the kid. He didn't need that pain scrapped at any further. "All you need to do is trust your sister on this one. You said it yourself. She'll wipe the floor with me."

And the tension in his body slowly went away. But the concern stayed behind. "Yeah...she will… But you're just as good as she is."

"Doesn't mean I'll win, guarantee. We'll have to see who the victor is out of that match. Fair and square." Jack reinforced the two words - nothing but annoying scratches to Rahim's ears regardless of how true they were. And Rahim reluctantly accepted her words. "It's better that she doesn't become an example like me."

Rahim found that sentence odd. An example? He was ready to rebuke at that statement, as if Jade would be like her - but when he looked up, he twitched with a sliver of fright.

Jack's face hardened like a cold slab of concrete. Something in the distance, over the kid's shoulder, had caught her attention.

"You should go home, kid."

He was about to tell her to stop calling him a kid. But the change in mood urged him to look back. After all, there was a certain look he had seen once on TV and just recently. A hungry but apathetic glance the Mad Dog had on prey.

No. Not prey. Unwanted guests in her territory.

He glanced over his shoulder. He counted four men. Tough, bad guys that came from the bad side of the neighborhood.

"Don't look back."

Rahim still glanced back at Jack with a worried, scared face. But he obeyed. Quickly, he walked down the other direction as Jack went forward, hands in pocket and a look dark enough to scare off people.

"Miss Jack Brecken?" one asked. He waved a hand to the alleyway Crane had come out from. She uninterestedly followed them in.

"I take it he sent you to pick me up?" she got right into business.

"He wants to see you on a matter."

"Of course," Jack sang irritatedly. "Good old Cel always has always something to talk about. Whatever it is, he can have it ram up his bloody arsehole. Tell him that. I've retired from the underground months ago."

"He said you need to listen." The men chuckled, slowly splitting away and circling around the kickboxer. "Orders, miss.

Jack sighed heavily with a roll of her eyes. This day just keeps getting better. "Please spare me the formality. I ain't gonna give the same treatment to him and neither to his dogs." That peeved one, two men on the spot but was quickly put in their place by the speaker. Their angry demeanor and rolled up fists didn't sway bold Jack.

"Look," the speaker tried to delicately sway her. "You better come down quietly. Boss has a discussion with you on an upcoming fight."

"Hmph," Jack laughed. "I wouldn't have thought otherwise. He's never the kind to offer tea." She paced up to the speaker. She had finished being the nice one here. "I've said this to him and you're going to say it too. I'm done with any more fights. I'm done with doing his dirty work. So find someone else to fill my shoes."

"He insisted that you attend or we'll drag you to him by force."

The brunette was ready to leave but the men behind her tightened the gaps between them. One cracked his knuckles loudly, eager to pound on her. Chivalry and gender didn't matter when business was the first priority.

Instead of that wolf-like toothy grin the present Jack would shine out, the past Jack was apathetic to the danger around her. She had been through this before, many times. Every thug Celso sent was always old news. She obviously heard the underlining threat in the man's voice before turning around to face the group.

Here we go again, she thought boredly. Jack shook her head. "...Men never know when to quit."

The man to her right cracked his knuckles. First slow step, then two quick steps. He fired a shot.

Readable. It was all so easily readable.

She ducked swiftly. The opening was there - she sent a strong right hook, knocking him to the floor. The remaining men came charging in all together in an attempt to overpower her.

Sure, numbers were their advantage. Timing wasn't. The first man that came spiraling towards her with open arms was down fast. She lassoed onto one arm and twirled him over her shoulder. The second was next, surely thinking her focus on his comrade would help him. He never saw the quick kick to his gut, the wind pushed right out of him.

The last one, the speaker, was the last one. But this time he wasn't as gung-ho as the others. He had a weapon, a set of brass knuckles he slipped on.

The thug struck. A miss. Biggest mistake to try and take on a pro. Jack jabbed at him hard - the world around him spinning. He didn't progress her grabbing his arm and twisting it backward.

A sickening sound popped from the joint. Pain surged through his body and a blood-curdling scream shot out from his mouth.

"You fucking bitch!" He shouted as he clutched his now-limp arm. And still he wasn't going to go down.

Jack held out her fists. She hadn't pry away her eyes off her opponents. The first man had scrambled back onto his feet and battle-cried in another run.

She heard him clear as day but she didn't spin round. Like a strong zebra, she fired a kick back timingly at a knee. Jack wasn't done yet and neither as the second man. The poor man behind her was crippled by the sharp agony. All he could do was helplessly watch the brunette grab him by the collar and toss him onto the second guy.

In the midst of the two bumbling idiots' fail, their leader had hurriedly seized out another weapon. The butterfly knife unfolded at the flick of his good hand. The dangerous sharpness didn't faze Jack but she was on full-fledged defense. A blade wasn't something to mess around with.

He attacked. A jab, and another and another. Jack was swift, dodging all of them.

"Gaaaargh!" he hollered and ran.

Jack ducked left. There was a nip of pain on her left cheek but she completely ignored it.

Another jab of the knife. Jack found her opening. She shielded up her arm, stopping his swinging forearm. Before he could retaliate, she slid a kick at his shin, forcing him down on one knee.

Then came the stomp. The tibia broke with a loud crack.

"AAAAAHHHH!" he screamed and curled up into a ball. Double the pain was unbearable.

One down. The other three were still up. One was at the far back, cowering fearfully at the woman. He knew she wasn't someone to mess with. Jack threw away the morals of a ring the moment they picked a fight on her.

People like them, like Celso didn't deserve her fairness.

The others jumped in again, fueled by their arrogance and rage. Planned, sicker punches was all they got as their rewards. They were knocked out, just like their leader.

Then Jack turned and faced him.

Him. Crane himself.

"Wait. I'm not one of them-!"

It was already too late.

Her fist fired.

 _POW!_

* * *

"Garh!" Crane exhaled out a small gasp, opening his eyes to darkness.

No, he wasn't at that unfamiliar street. He was back in his little room he had found to sleep off his exhaustion.

He groaned sleepily as he pushed himself up, rubbing his tired eyes. That dream… It was so vivid. Like he was in the audience at a cinema, watching the protagonist go through the drama of life.

And why Jack? That was a very specific kind of dream to have about.

This wasn't exactly his first 'weird' dream. But like before, he pushed it aside. Maybe it was his mind trying to fill in the holes on this mysterious woman. Or his way of imagining what a 'normal' Jack would be like.

" _I'm seriously going crazy,_ " he groaned pointlessly.

Crane stretched. Half the day was gone but it was a well-deserved rest after their crazy, heroic deed yesterday. He was out and about from the closed bedroom he found at the hotel - his own personal chamber. Not nearly as comfortable as the safehouses he used to stay but better than out on the stone.

And once he reached the nearby safehouse, he waited.

Five. Ten. Fifteen-

"Gaaaahmmm," out came a muffled grumble first, then Jack out from her safehouse. She had her shades off, holding a hand over her eyes as if the sunlight was revolting against her. The light had some terrible effect on her than it did to him on his first day waking up as a sentient zomb.

" _You're not a morning person, are you?_ " He got a "I don't care" expression from the lady while Jack proceeded to rub the tiredness from her eyes. " _It's already 3._ "

"Well, why don't you go fight six tough infected in one night and let me know how you feel in the morning," she muttered, none of her oddbird personality shining through.

He rolled his eyes. Oh, he's done better. Though, to be fair, Crane did so in a more cautious manner. Jack pretty much headbutted one after the other with nearly a scratch of her life.

As she exited through the UV protection, Crane dropped down from his perch. " _So, what's the plan for today?_ " She didn't answer straight away, wearing her shades on. " _I'm paying you for your service, aren't I?_ "

"But of course, of course," Jack chirped right back to her usual perk. "Impatient one, aren't you?"

" _Sure, mutated freak here. Uncontrollable urge to kill and hunt if you've forgotten._ "

"Eh, you worry too much. Just take a bite of me and you'll be fine."

" _You really don't have any concern for your own well-being, do you?_ "

"Oh, please. I've dealt with much worse hooligans than you." Jack glanced around, her hands slapped on her hips. "Well. I suppose we should head to Harran."

Crane stopped, alarmed but the woman didn't pay any heed to that as she trailed off to a direction.

 _Oh no. No, no. Not Harran. Of all places, why there?_

He hurried after her. " _Hold it. Hold it. Isn't that place too dangerous._ "

Now she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "What? Weren't you talking about going there?"

Dammit. That wasn't what he expected. And he still hadn't uncovered any information why this woman knew the Tower. More importantly, it seemed like her faction knew about Brecken's group too. " _Yes but...w-what about this experiment of yours?_ "

"On-going, what else? There are just as many zombies over there for test subjects as there are here. I can do it on the go."

Ok, Crane had to give her that one, seeing she had a good point.

" _Uh, excuse me. Have you forgotten what you said yesterday? Finding a cure, making it a big deal,_ _ **me**_ _turning back to human?_ "

"I did say it was a big deal. I didn't say it could be done overnight." Jack turned back to him. "And weren't you the one who made it a big deal to return to Harran?"

He zipped his lips shut, curling them in. There was no way he was saying anything to her.

"What?" She slowly snaked right up to him, flashing a curious grin. "You've changed your mind?"

His gut was screaming at him not to say anything - this woman had a cunning way of getting out all sorts of details and the spurring truth from one's mouth. It was a one-sided conflict: he knew absolutely nothing about her except the tip of the iceberg and he wasn't going to let her know about him.

" _Of course not,_ " he barked. " _I'm in no a hurry._ "

She backed off but her smile stayed firm and shrewd. "Hm-hm…" And with a swing of her hands in the air, "Well, I am so you might as well tag along, Freakoid. Or don't. Your pick."

" _Wait - Now hold on a minute._ " But she was off. And Crane kept at her heels. " _Where's the fire?_ "

"In Harran, where else. Once I find my boat, any boat, I'm off for a day. But I'll be back quick. Nothing biggie."

Oh, yes, very big. For him.

Ok. Ok. He was drawing blanks from this woman the entire time. The best he could do was pick at the clues from a somewhat 'normal' conversation and work from there.

" _Just what's your reason for going there? Didn't your radioman say something about that place having GRE?_ "

"Well, you already know as much as I do. The group over there has gone cold and I'm just dropping by to check on them."

" _But you're just two random groups, aren't you? Both from either sides of Harran._ "

She chuckled. "Oh, we know them. Few of our runners ended up in the Old City by accident some time ago. But all of them didn't make it. One managed to make it to the Tower for about a day." She wheeled around on a turn of a foot. "Tower got his comms and well, they contacted us."

Thank goodness she was the talkative type. This must have been before Crane arrived in Harran on Day 1. " _So that's how you know them._ "

"Actually, I know a few of them closely." She turned back to her walking. "The Tower's leader is a bloody family member of mine."

" _Brecken never mentioned about you-_ "

"I'm sorry?"

It was barely a small whisper in his head but somehow, she was able to pick that?! " _Nothing. Just...never took you one to care about family._ "

At first, she didn't budge. That stern look behind the shades wasn't promising to boot for Crane. But with a shrug, she continued. "He's all I got in this world. Same goes for him to me. We might just be cousins but we both had our own rough beginnings."

Ok, cousins. Huh. Brecken never did talk much about himself. Just a parkour instructor unfortunate enough to appoint himself as leader of a group of survivors in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.

"But I'm not worried. He's not that incapable he'll wind up dead. And he's got backup."

" _Really?_ " It wasn't probing. Crane couldn't think of who the "backup" was back at the Tower. Couldn't be himself. Lena...well, she has a strong head but her thing was medical, helping those sick, not second-in-command. Don't think it's Buckshot, the guard trainer, or Timur. Crane could go down the whole list of names but no one could be it. " _What kind of backup?_ "

"One good fighter and one good strategist, nurse too. There is one more but meh, we never listen to Rahim and neither will my cous. Champ would skin both of them alive if he did."

And there, Crane stopped in his tracks. Jack was already a few more steps ahead of him, unaware of his sudden halt.

" _What…_ "

He thought it was just a dream. His mind combining Jack and his memories. But the moment she said that name so nonchalantly, he felt a chill down his spine.

It was all too accurate.

He swallowed, forcing himself to stop from asking this question: why, why did she know Rahim?

But before he could even ask, or dare to ask, the sound of a _beep!_ lightly erupted from her pocket. Jack was quick to wear on her earpiece.

"Jack's here. Who's speaking?"

" _Hey, it's Siv. I think we might have a lead to your missing boat._ " The young female voice again.

"You have? That's grand," Jack uttered enthusiastically, something Crane couldn't share. He was all too stunned to listen.

" _You know about the orphanage? We got word from the Cicadas about spotting a boat along the canals. Might be yours._ "

"Does it have the name Serendipity? That's very important."

" _Dunno. You're gonna have to ask them, Jack._ "

"Well, a small lead is better than nothing. Where's the orphanage?"

" _Up north, past the memorial park. The old church-looking structure that stands out from the other building. Can't miss it. They've been using it as a base since the outbreak started. Already told them you're heading over. So expect work there._ "

"And I'm happy to accept. As long as it's not stupid or unreasonable."

" _Uhhh, you're probably gonna get some oddball job. Some of the people there aren't...well, let's just say we had some disagreements with them in the past._ "

"Lovely." One could take it as a sense of sarcasm. Or masochism. Or both. No one could tell. She ended her call and knew where her goal was.

But would Freakoid agree to come along? Now that was a good question.

"So are you going to stick around or just stand there?"

That snapped Crane out of a half-in-half-out trance.

" _Yeah…_ " he murmured. That was when he noted her glance locked on him. Did he give some tall tale? He tried to swing back to his usual 'self'. " _Yeah. Sure._ "

She didn't look convinced. But Jack walked away.

" _Yeah…_ "

* * *

"You've gotten real quiet, Freakoid. Is Harran that bad this time of year?"

Crane didn't reply as the two exited out through the front entrance of the hotel. But he was going to. The more he didn't want to say anything, the more Jack was going to probe him for answers.

The twist in his gut was tight. What were the chances he'd meet someone who knew not just Becken - family, he added - but also Rahim. He needed answers. But the weight was almost crushing him in its harsh grip.

So he could only do what he was best at. Change the topic. Pull at the right moments to get info. Better yet, _convince_ her not to go to Harran.

" _Bad..._ " _C'mon, Crane. Try to shake it off._ " _Like it's any better than here._ "

"Well, you've got a good reason not to go there. Says so on your face."

He glowered. Really? He hadn't checked his face. He didn't want to see his face. But he could imagine just how horrible it must look. Jack was bullshitting.

" _Sure, zombies showing expressions. Are you reading too much into that?_ "

And she dodged it with a question. "You said you don't remember. Did you get a memory or something?"

Right, he was playing the role of the amnesiac infected. He most certainly had his memories intact. A simple lie would be enough if it wasn't so hard to recall everything vividly.

" _I...what does it matter? Who wants to remember when they're like...this?_ " Crane indicated to himself.

It was then Jack stopped and gave a prying eye on him, her fingers cupping her chin. Like any scientist would. He could literally feel the goosebumps over his hardened skin.

"Good point. We should do something about your wardrobe."

" _Ok, that's the craziest thing you can say. Wardrobe. On an infected._ "

"Oh, c'mon. Wouldn't it be better if people saw you less of a zomb and not try to kill you?"

" _Riiight, good plan. Except I'd want them to if I'd lose it again._ "

"Semantics, semantics. Have you just forgotten? I'm here to bring ya back."

Ok, was there a second choice? Because Crane really needed another. " _I'm starting to feel less and less optimistic around you._ "

"Hey, that's exactly what a Rav member said to me too. Then I grew on him."

" _Wow. You must be great at parties. Look, I get why you're doing this. But I think you should be at least more cautious with me. I could snap. At any moment. And you're going to this orphanage. I can't be waltzing in, expecting people to not scream in sheer terror and try to kill me._ "

"Well, that's what I'm hired for. Be your wingman, that's the correct term, right? I can talk to the folks without the shooting, screaming and them trying to hunt you down. Besides, do you really wanna be walking around in those rags?"

He glanced down. There were holes and tears, sure. Nothing that...terrible from weeks of being a feral. " _What's wrong with them?"_

"Other than you stay out like an easy target, you look like a hobo. But we can do better."

" _Ugh, why did I ask such a pointless question..._ "

They had just wandered into the hotel's carpark, littered with abandoned luggage. Somewhere in the recent past tourists had dumped everything they had and fled to their buses. But the vehicles never left - windows shattered and dead bodies left to reek inside.

And Jack opened up one luggage by a corpse-filled coach.

" _What are you doing?_ " His seeping self-reproach was replaced by a dull feeling of curiosity. For his own sake, to push the first annoyance away.

"Here, try this on."

It took him by surprise, all of his will forcing his primitive instinct to not duck away. Or bite Jack. The cotton fabric of a cheap-looking, thin scarf draped over his head as the woman causally tied it up. The kind of style people would wear at deserts.

She took a minute to marvel. A small adjustment there that frankly made Crane go, " _Ok, can you stop? You're not my mom._ "

Jack just brushed it off while he took it upon himself to loosen the tie. "Eh, it's a start. Makes you less scary."

" _Uh-huh. A scarf magically makes me less of a monster._ "

"Hey, at least it hides those big teeth of yours. Let's try this then." She smirked at her discovery from a busted suitcase. A hooded shirt is always a nice thing to have - both fashionable and practical.

" _You're telling me to wear dead people's clothing._ "

"What? They don't smell." She then took a whiff of a tank top in her hand and her nose wrinkled. She pitched it away and tossed a pair of pants at Crane's feet. "Or you could walk around half naked like these zombies-"

" _I'll pass._ "

When did this become a walk into a man's clothing store with Jack being the clerk? But Crane might as well entertain her just so she could stop. He examined the hoodie, only to spy Jack looking at him.

" _Do you mind?_ "

She cast a look of surprise. Or a fake one. "Oh, sorry. My bad. I'll give you your privacy." And she strolled around the bus she was scavenging by.

He shot her back a swift glare, just to make sure there wasn't any funny business or a single peek. Then it was back to the realization he was going to see his hideously ugly body.

Crane could just ditch the clothes. He could just not do this. He didn't need to bind himself by human rules. Heck, he didn't look that bad. Jack was being crazy.

However, he sniffed his clothes. And cringed. A bloodthirsty zombie with the sense of smell of a bloodhound revolted at the disgusting odor he had just noticed.

Never mind. It's been how many days, weeks wearing these torn, dirty, blood-soaked clothes. He needed a change.

He heaved a sigh. _"Just get it over with it, Kyle."_

It started off as a delicate operation but it didn't really help when the cloth kept catching the exposed bones jutting out of his back. There was some leeway that he could feel the fabric slip but still…

"All ok back there?"

" _I'm fine,_ " he mumbled. " _I know how to wear clothes-_ "

 _Teeerr!_

It was a loud sound. That he and surely Jack heard loud and clear. And immediately in his claw, one of the sleeves was torn off. His jacket.

 _"Well, that's just perfect."_

"You sure you don't need help?"

"Graassh!" he growled. He purposefully hissed back.

He spotted a shoulder behind the bus, shrugging. "Fine. I was just offering."

Crane huffed through his nose and looked back at the damage. And he really liked the pattern on the back. The jacket...wasn't too bad. He could salvage it. Make it come off as a new sense of fashion. The kind of sleeveless biker vest he'd seen before. Just needed some work.

He grumbled to himself. How much denial was he putting himself into… He shook his head at himself with a facepalm.

The next obstacle was the worst. His shirt underneath was almost unrecognizable - dirty and completely shredded. Seeing his abdomen in a dark, scaly texture with pulsating veins made his stomach turn. He tried to ignore it by pulling off his shift. But the holes were even more embedded to his spines than his jacket.

Frustration got the better of him.

" _Come on, you stupid piece of-!_ "

 _Riiiiiiip!_

"You know. I could look for a pair of scissors or a blade. Or something simple you can slip on."

" _Not. Helping._ "

"That's the deal with you men. Just take one shirt and you're happy for a whole year. Doesn't matter how old and worn-out it gets, it's just fine for ya. No fashion sense."

" _Excuse me, I have good fashion sense._ " He wasn't stuck to just one outfit over the course of his time in Harran. He could make it work with the right set of clothes, urban, rural, formal. Crane even discovered a nice special agent set. He was suave.

If it wasn't for the bloodstain across the chest… But he still made it work!

"Well, hopefully it's better than my cousin. Seriously just takes the first top he sees from the pile and he's done for the year."

Crane stopped. And gloated. Hm, so he was a bit better than Brecken. That was a nice thought.

Then his next obstacle came. Pants.

Why? Why didn't he stop before he started? Now he couldn't stop because he knew he'd never hear the end of lunatic Jack after that statement he made.

Jack, the entire time, stayed where she was. From the sounds alone, it was definitely a trial. She hadn't look back but hearing Freakoid growl in discomfort at the nasty sensations told her, he's not liking this idea.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," she muttered to herself.

" _You think?_ "

She shrugged at the hiss tossed in her head. Damn, his hearing was good. "You could have said no."

Grumble, grumble from the grumpy zombie. The jacket was the only thing salvageable but he had to improvise a little. He had torn off the other sleeves and wore the hoodie underneath it. And putting that on was a harder challenge compared to before.

"C'mon. It'll be over soon and you can look back at this with a laugh."

" _Still not helping._ "

"I'm just saying. Having a change is refreshing. Think of it as a nice clean slate. Why not take it as a new step from your whole feral phase? You're one step closer to looking normal."

" _Normal. This isn't normal._ "

"Neither is a zombie outbreak. But here we are, infected and stuck in this hellhole."

The difficult part of wearing clothes was finished. It wasn't too bad now that he looked over at himself. Correction: it was still bad being the fact he was an infected. Crane examined his hands next. There was no point in putting gloves - the hardened texture on his palms and fingers obviously helped with his grip. And there were the tendrils. Gloves would just be a hindrance.

The sight of his hideous hands did tick him off a little.

It was a constant reminder. Everything about his body was a constant reminder. He was stuck like this. And there was nothing he could do.

The question easily seeped out of his mouth.

" _Am I really able to turn back…?_ "

Quiet. Of course, Jack couldn't answer a difficult question like that.

"...Do you want to hear the truth or I lie to you?"

And that was a surprising answer from her. But either side of the coin just left a bad taste in his mouth. While he would like brutal honesty, it was just prolonging the inevitable. A lie would be more gentle but in the end, it was going to hurt him. And others. He knew from experience.

" _It's already obvious._ "

"You're asking the wrong person here. I'm not a good liar," Jack tossed. "...Honesty, I don't know. I've seen a lot of strange and crazy things throughout this outbreak."

" _Hmph._ " He really didn't like her answer. But there was some merit. " _...I know the feeling. Seen too much shit to know if I'm sane or not._ "

"Maybe that's a good thing. Wondering if you're sane or not. Would any madman not think like that?"

" _You're one to talk. You're with an infected here._ "

"And? Surprisingly, it makes for good company. Good story to tell by the fire."

Crane finished off the last touches to his outfit, tightening the scarf a little, adjusting his collar loosely, etc. " _Which is exactly my point. Why are you even sticking around with me?_ "

"Because you remind me too much of my old self."

It was a sentence that piqued his interest. He had a bit of annoyance - mainly "you have something to say, Jack?" - but the line got him. Already finished with his somewhat-new look, he turned back to where Jack leaned against the front.

And she had already turned around the corner. This time, there was no Cheshire cat smile. Her eyes were completely unreadable behind the shades. That casting aura of experience shone right out of her posture.

It made her look old. Look like she was reminiscing all over again.

She was disappointed.

Not even a cunning remark could break it.

He didn't get it. So he pushed warily. " _What do you mean?_ "

Another minute passed and still nothing. But quickly, it was all taken over by her Cheshire cat grin.

"Lookie here. A lot better than your old drags," she uttered, taking a bit of pride in helping with his fashion.

She avoided the question.

But Crane didn't dare push harder. It made him wonder about the dreams he's been getting.

The old Jack. Knowing Rahim. Brecken's cousin. The pieces fitted too confidently together.

Just how accurate were those dreams?

"We could use some...I dunno, movie makeup or bandages but you could really pull this off, Freakoid. Actually, we have that." Jack tossed over a roll of clean bandages to him.

Crane reacted just as smoothly and quickly as a normal catcher. Only, a step further. The tendril from his right shot right out and latched onto the small item, slipping it right into his hand. How fast was he to adapt to this but Jack's indifferent face to the reaction made him feel a little less...terrified of that thought. Or maybe he should be more - Jack was already getting used to having a zombie buddy.

"Nice catch," she sang.

The mood changed. And Jack wanted it to stay that way. She didn't say it to him but Crane knew. He should stop here. Just continue the conversation under this chirpy tone as he'd wrap his claws with the bandages.

" _You know, one look at me and people are either gonna run to the hills or shoot me. I still look like a freaky Hunter._ "

"Sheez, lighten up just a tiny bit. So broody." Crane narrowed his eyes at the comment. Broody, him? "We just need to test it out." Jack jabbed a thumb to the sky. Far off was a stream of smoke, bearing the red color of a smoke flare. Only instead of a long stream, it flowed in odd rhythmical puffs.

Was someone making smoke signals?

" _What's that?_ "

"Standard Rav signaling. You might remember the names, Ender and Riza."

" _Probably. And?_ "

"We're gonna welcome them to the neighborhood."

Bad idea. Completely and utterly a bad idea. " _How about a no._ "

Jack chuckled, hands in her pockets as she strolled off, first with a spin to cast a catty smirk at the grumpy zombie. "Just relax a little and let me do the talking. I'm your wingman, remember?"

" _Oh joy. This will be fun…. Not._ " Crane grumbled to himself.

"I can still hear you. Stop being a party pooper. You'll do fine."

" _I'm fine. I'm totally_ _fiiiiine_."

"Yeah, yeah. Oh. Before that." Jack walked casually back to the pile of ripped fabrics on the ground and picked up something small. "Here."

" _What's this?_ " Crane asked about the thing in his hand.

"The tracking device. Yours. What else." Again, Jack walked away.

It took Crane two clicks before he could figure out what that meant. " _Hold on. Hold on._ " He instantly felt the red flags come up that he swung himself right in front of her so fast. That gesture was way too suspicious from her. " _This is the tag you put on me._ "

"Yes. And?"

" _Aren't you going to put it on me?_ "

She peeked out an eyebrow over her sunglasses. "Do you want me to?"

" _No._ " He quickly regretted his question, recoiling away from the crazy woman.

"Well, you shouldn't want to. Look, the whole purpose for that tag is to track any new infected. You are a new brood and you were the first on my list. But you're not as feral as the other infected here."

" _That's until I suddenly snap._ "

"Semantics. You said you didn't need a babysitter. So I'm giving you that space."

" _Just like that._ " Kyle simply looked at the woman.

Jack shrugged her shoulders. "Keep it on you if you want. Even you disappear off or get yourself in trouble, I'll come running after you. You did hire me."

" _And what if I just toss it? Or drop it?_ "

"Do you really want me to put it on you again?"

" _No. Forget it._ " And he thought a bit. This...what should he call it? This act of an adult dealing with a child in a calm manner. He gave another hard look at Jack, trying to find any trace of that person he saw in the dream. There was barely any and yet...it was there. " _I really can't figure you out._ "

"What's there to figure out?" she chided. "I'm a helping hand for ya."

" _Riiiight,_ " Crane uttered as he latched the tag easily onto the waist of his new pants. No way that can fall off unless he went streaking at high speed.

"You've always been a lone wolf, haven't you?"

" _And you're a team player?_ " Crane rebuked, no matter how true her words were.

"Heh. You'll have to be the judge of that."

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone! Yes, I've finally updated the next chapter. And I greatly want to apologise for my slowness. I know that a lot of people really enjoy this fic and I do too working on it. It's not my intention to let it die down like most fics do. I want to state to you guys, it's really easy to have small ideas but difficult to connect them together and build something so they don't sound disjointed to me. That's why I take a long time to work on a chapter. Moreover I ask friends for help on brainstorming and discussion that it helps me figure out the characters and situations better. It's also more so that I like to think of this fic as like a game's main story. Pacing it just as great as any game story out there or in an open world - which is really that's really difficult too in game development, trying to combine story with gameplay. There's still a number of ideas I have that I picture gameplay to be like for Dying Light but still key it to the story.

It'd still take some time between chapters but I do hope you'll understand that I'm trying my best to get these chapters out and be patient. I really want to say thank you for the support and love into this fic - it means a lot to me that people enjoy this even on haitus and want more. I'll do my best to keep this fic going until the end.

Before I end this note, I wanna say a few good words. One I wanna thank BigPizza for the support and thank Arika Namikaze for the help and brainstorming for this chapter. Two, I wanna shoutout two fics. Check out Arika Namikaze's Fading Light fic: s/12985070/1/Fading-Light about a cool, interesting OC she has there. And Shadows of a Dying Light by UranicSubseter34: s/12780940/1/Shadows-of-a-Dying-Light. I've said this before and will say again, his fic on an infected sentient Crane is top notch and has always inspired me to work on this fic - its thanks to him that I started this.

Again, thank you so much for your support and love. I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter. Cya again!


	13. TWELVE: FIRST IMPRESSION

**TWELVE: FIRST IMPRESSION**

* * *

The open basketball court was empty of any walkers with its doors closed off. A perfect safe spot for a meeting. Right in the middle was the tossed away flare, red smoke fizzing out into the dull cloudy sky. From the looks of it, the building next to it was a high school. But Crane didn't see any illuminated signs of humans from way up on the rooftops - not the two people Jack was meeting. Not behind the walls of the classrooms or in the other surrounding buildings.

" _You sure your friends are here?_ "

"I told you. Rav signal," Jack replied casually as she jumped down to another rooftop.

" _Yeah, a giant "notice me" sign anyone can come to._ "

"Yeah, I can see that. But no Rav would go to just any fire signal like fireflies. We aren't stupid. Plus, see that symbol at the eastside?" She pointed at a window - what looked like probably the school's cafeteria - where painted on the outer glass panel with white paint was a large straight line and a seven right in the middle. Crane could make out something from the design... A bird of some sort?

" _Yeah?_ "

"That's our emblem. That's our way to telling this meetup is a go. And if it isn't, someone smudges that off with a cross. Dead bird, dead zone."

" _Your group has some organized system?_ " he pried and easily, Jack answered without much hesitation.

"It's been working. Surviving in the Outskirts long enough has helped us figure out a method. Keeps us Ravs alive and well."

" _Been meaning to ask about that name. So what do you do? Help people in the day and have rave parties all night long?_ "

Jack gave out a laugh, her pace slower now that she looked back to the Freakoid. "It's short for ravens. Our boss gave that name when she set it up." She recited most of the same description she gave to Mahir back at the Junction. "We're just a service for hire, not like those thug factions that take over territories. We scavenge for food, meds, Antizin, everything with as little noise as possible. We're the ones daring enough to get supplies than most civilians in the Outskirts. They're holed out in their homes too afraid to leave. So we go out and help them. Trade around and take down a few zombs to make it feel safe for them."

" _Generous. Sounds a little too good to be true_."

"Outskirts' community is smaller than say the Old Town. It's mostly rural places and trees nobody dares want to go alone. We're pretty much knitted over there."

Crane didn't quite get it but perhaps there was some merit behind her words if he thought more on it. Back at the tower, trust was on very thin ice. Even under Brecken's leadership, tension would still arise and there had been a few faces Crane had seen get up and leave.

The city of Harran was like any other city, even Chicago for him. Every man, woman and child were total strangers to you within the concrete jungles, regardless if the sky fell down. When he hears the word, Outskirts, he could imagine it a little more homey than the city. Neighbors knew each other well enough to have one's back.

Probably not as propaganda-like as the Countryside was with those Faceless fucks.

" _If it's that small, why are the folks there staying?_ "

"Three obvious reasons. One, zombies. Two, monsoon season. You can't get around chest deep in water unless you know how to parkour. Or have a boat."

Ah, hence why she had a boat to begin with.

" _And the third?_ "

"It's their homes." It was a straightforward answer that Crane first thought was a melodramatic joke. "Everyone's been living there for years. If you've been there, you'll know that no one wants to abandon their place."

" _Not even for the infected?_ "

"If they had a choice, they'd take it. GRE took that away," Jack explained. "They walled off all roads there and surrounded the forest up with every defense possible. Considers anyone crossing the fence as trespassers. We've seen a few good souls go."

" _Shit…_ " He knew the measures GRE could take. The steps and orders put down 'just for a cause'. The end justifies the means, as they say. But that was just the same level as most sickos in Harren. " _That's too much…_ "

"Hey, as much as we all hate GRE for doing their job...they are still doing their job. At least some of them with a conscience anyway. I told you we had a long dry spell where there was no Antizin. Well, one day, suddenly, Antizin."

" _What?_ "

"Don't know all the details there. We managed to pick up radio talk on the whole deal. Something about those blokes being ransomed with some research as a bargaining chip. Whatever happened seemed to get GRE to keep sending Antizin in afterward. Or could be because of Scanderoon's zombie problem. Who knows."

Crane felt a little grin stretch on his face. It might have been when he broke protocol, that he refused to follow orders and took Dr. Zere's research back to Camden. Or it might have been the higher-ups and commotion. Or maybe with the fall of Scanderoon, the situation had become worse in the eyes of the world that GRE had no choice but to continue sending in the meds. Who knows, just like Jack said.

But at least Antizin was still coming in after his whole deal. That gave Crane just a tiny bit of hope. If the Outskirts was getting back Antizin, then maybe the rest of Harran too.

"Still, that's not gonna last long," Jack had to bring him back down to Earth. "If they decided to stop the drops, they can decide it again. GRE here isn't sharing their supplies."

" _That's pretty pessimistic coming from you," he grumbled at her._

Again that catty grin back at him. "I'm just saying the odds. Makes a good challenge."

" _Challenge,_ " he just couldn't agree. The one thing that irked him about the woman was her taste for the thrill. The destruction and fall around her had little effect on her soul compared to him. Yes, he had to keep strong-minded and not break under the sight around him. And there were times he nearly crossed the line. Jack, however, was a different story. He could tell. " _So you profit from all thi_ s."

"I'd be lying if I wasn't. But it doesn't mean I'm heartless."

" _Sure_ ," he answered judgmentally. And Jack could spot the tone in his thought-speech. " _Just like him._ "

"Someone I should know? Or someone you just remembered?"

He grimaced, realizing quickly his mistake. Play the infected with memory loss, stupid! " _Nothing. I'm mumbling to myself._ "

That seemed to work. Although Jack had a moment of doubt - what looked like a deep reading into his soul - she turned away. Her line of thinking reflected a little like that man's. Crane actually wished he could forget him.

Kadir "Rais" Suleiman. The sadistic, violent, irritable bastard that terrorized most of Harran. A man with his own psychotic philosophy, who profited from the outbreak by hoarding the Antizin and exploiting the struggles of others to fatten his pockets.

He'd better be rotting with the maggots.

"Sounds like there's history. For someone who can't remember."

" _Do you always like to poke at everything when you shouldn't?_ "

"I need to know my client better." She cocked up a cheeky grin. "How else are we gonna work together?"

" _Together. Right._ "

"Am I that untrusting of a person?" she asked exaggeratedly. "Even after our bonding moment last night?"

" _I'm still on the fence with you._ "

"Heh. Guess that makes the two of us," she joked. He wasn't too sure if it was a sarcastic one or she meant it. "Eh, as they always say, misery loves company."

Sure, and misery had to give him this loon of a character. But beggars couldn't be choosers. But that didn't mean he shouldn't keep a distance from her.

Not until he knew more of her true motives, her real self behind that mask of hers. Just because she was "Harris' cousin" - air quotes there - didn't mean it could be true. People could lie about connections.

They've reached the edge of the school perimeter, Jack jumping down to a street with one, three slow walkers. The afternoon sun was still an assuring blessing of protection for her. Not Crane - the burn was slight but still present that revolted him to go back to the shade.

The brunette could hear the pacing behind her cease to a crawl. A wheel on her heel and she spied the Freakoid, refusing to move.

He didn't care what she thought of him - whether true to his word that he wasn't going to show his ugly face or otherwise, he wasn't leaving the shadows.

"Seriously?" she uttered with arms wide open. And when Freakoid wouldn't budge, she slapped her hands on her thighs and rolled her eyes, turning back to the flare. "Ender. Riza."

Nothing. Not even a little peek. The ex-kickboxer wasn't worried but Crane kept a watchful eye out from the shadows. She climbed over the wire fence and scanned around her quiet surroundings.

"C'mon, you two. I don't have all day," she groaned.

"Hello, Jack."

Two voices behind her. And she wheeled around with a small jump in her step. Two runners, shorter than her and almost similar to each other, stood side to side. The only differences were how fully clothed the left runner was compared to their partner, hiding even their face. The other, no doubt female, shone a smirk at their guest.

"Ok. Stop being those creepy twins from that one movie. I don't want any blood gushing out behind you two," Jack hissed.

"And it's nice seeing you alive too," the right runner broke down the creepy mood with her spunky tone. "You didn't even say goodbye when you left."

"We were heartbroken. And Lenny was furious."

Jack just shrugged. "I had to go see family. So of course, I needed to take Lenny's boat."

"But here in Scanderoon?"

"Ender," she began saying to the left runner. "I crashed here. More importantly, how did you two get here?"

"Please. You of all people. You can't underestimate Ender," the right, Crane was gonna assumed she was Riza, spoke out proudly. "If wasn't for them, we'd have taken longer getting through that rumble."

"Yes and I do wanna remind you two about the circumstances," Jack muttered tiredly.

Ender groaned in retaliation. "You worry too much. I got it handled."

"Then I take it that the way to the Outskirts is good?"

The two looked back to each other. One could almost say they were like twins or their minds thought alike. "Nope. Still caved in."

"Wait, then how-"

"Same way those zombies can move back and forth between the Outskirts and Scanderoon. The maintenance tunnels."

Jack hunched down her shoulders. Hearing two young adults, fresh grads, by the way, go through a very dangerous area was enough to bring a headache to her. "Really, you two-"

"It wasn't bad," Riza cut her short. "We're still alive, aren't we? We marked the path in case you wanna come back home. Everyone misses ya."

"Except Lenny."

"Yeaaah," Jack mumbled but still keeping her cheery beat going. "I don't think I should go back yet. Not without his boat anyway."

"Oh, yeah," Riza chuckled. "Lenny's gonna kill you."

"Everyone's already put bets on how it's going to go down. My money's on him."

Jack looked insulted. "Hey. What about me?"

The two runners just shrugged their shoulders in sync. "You're Mad Jack," Ender continued. "But Lenny's some hitman."

"'Presumed' hitman," Jack enforced the word into their conversation. "We don't know what he did for a living."

"That's what makes it fun," Riza added. "It's a guessing game."

Jack uttered out a loud and long groan through her teeth. Sheez, do these kids make her feel old and unappreciated...

"I see you're not alone." The left, Ender, pointed at Crane's hiding spot. "Mind introducing us your friend?"

Hang on. How the heck did they see him? Crane was in a good blindspot way back. The left runner's ally was having a hard time searching for him too.

"New partner," was all Jack said so easily like she was just introducing friends together. She was about to say his name, which technically has been the 'Freakoid' nickname she had been giving, but held that back. It'd complicate things. "He hired me for some business. He's shy by the way."

" _Oh, shaddup._ " However, he kept quiet, just in case his mental thoughts could be carried out to the two strangers.

"Business, huh…"

Bit by bit, Crane poked himself out that Riza finally spotted him. He could feel the clear grey eyes scanning him top to bottom.

No good. Even if there was a good distance between the Rav group and himself, there was no way people would fall for his disguise up close. He clearly had the look and build of a monster. The hood and scarf hid his ugly face and teeth while the bandages did some help for his claws. But the spikes and hardened skin were a dead giveaway.

"He looks like a creep."

"More like a stalker."

" _Hey!_ " Crane really, REALLY wanted to speak up. All he could do is pout and fold his arms.

"Looks can be deceiving. Give him time. He might just warm up to you. So what's the delivery of the day?"

The twin runners glanced at each other before they got right into work. "First off. We got the supplies you need for the "special" project."

"Really, though. How did you lose everything?"

"I didn't lose everything," Jack defended herself as she caught the small knapsack thrown by Ender. She began examining the inventory. "I just so happened to come across a little...bump in the road that...sorta knocked my bag overboard."

"Which means you lost it. You know those aren't easy to get, right?"

Out came four special syringe devices in her hand - the powerful medical kind that is used for a fast and easy way of taking body fluid with just a prick into a vein. All without too much trouble from the donator. Enough space in the vials to be stabbed onto a horse.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Was planning to ransack a hospital for these."

"Bad idea. Regular hospitals don't hold them."

"The special medical outposts do. And we've screened through all the ones in the Outskirts. Don't go losing them again."

"I won't, I won't," she chided with a twirl of her hand in the air.

"You know the plan, right? Or do we need to remind ya-"

"Oh, shush. Stop treating me like I've forgotten. I find a Special, let them test my blood and if they act funny, I stab them with these thingamajigs and draw their blood out."

"Hm," one of the twins hummed. "Think she's ok?"

"Doubtful," the other whispered back. "You know how bad her memory can be-"

"A-hem!" A foot tapped angrily but the face of Mad Jack was emotionless. But the two guests simply giggled quietly behind those masks most people wore as if it was enough to protect them from a cough of the virus - not them, they did it for the fashion. "Can we get onto business or how about I just wrap this up and go?"

"We're not done yet, Jack. Blueprint gifts from Bones. New designs that should help you out with the new Specials."

"You're gonna have to make them. Sorry, we needed to carry light."

"Wouldn't think otherwise. What else?" Jack casually asked.

"Just an offer."

"We spotted some nice holdups that we can use for business here. But they're packed with bad guys and infected."

"Seriously, you want to set up shop here?"

"We're staying here for a while, right? We need a place for safety," Riza pointed to Jack. "Until you move or we head home."

"I'd rather you both go back. Ender's the problem if they stay. No offense, love," Jack quickly apologized with just a shrug of acknowledgment and acceptance from the right runner.

"Hey, Asem made us your local suppliers. You're stuck with us all the way to the end."

Jack grumbled. Oh, fuck it. She was never gonna win the argument, especially with these two. "Fine. Just give me the locations."

"We just need one. It's an inactive safe zone down by some museum-"

"Markos Museum. I know where it is. Been there once years ago."

"Sweeet! Make sure it's cleaned up too."

"Don't push it," she warned them.

"Ok, ok. One last thing. This." Ender handed the one thing Jack and even, Crane, didn't expect for her to be given.

"A tranq gun. Where in the world-"

"From Lenny's collection. Where else."

"Is he really a poacher?" Jack asked a question no one could answer and not even her but she hurriedly shoved that question away for a new one. "Wait, can even sleeping darts knock out an infected?"

Actually, it can, Crane thought. It worked on him before.

She didn't need to know that, he thought more.

"Lenny tested out the dosage on a few zombies back home. Doesn't work on the normal biters but can knock down a Demolisher like an elephant."

"He also changed it a bit to make it light-weighted and adjustable for you. He says the darts are easy to craft."

"You all know I don't do guns," Jack grumbled. While the gift was nice, she just didn't like to use them. Too many problems and unnecessary weight needed.

"It's not loud, he said. And he also said if you lose this, he's gonna make you into zombie bait."

"That man. Bloody let it go," Jack complained loudly.

"You did steal his boat."

"Stop reminding me. Alright, how about those stashes? Asem sent you for those, didn't she?"

All she got was a wide grin from Riza while Ender was unpredictable. Oh, no.

"They're already set up. We didn't make it too difficult for you."

"We just put some of them in very high, out-of-reach spots for you to find."

Right away, Jack knew where this was going. With an additional headache to boot. "Another scavenger hunt… What is with you kids and these kooky games?"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted some fun out of this outbreak. We're just giving it to you," Riza sang.

"Can I take back what I said?"

"Stop being a spoilsport. Just think of it like getting achievements," Ender added.

"I mean, have you ever played a video game before? Tried to find all the hidey-holes?"

"I don't speak geek talk… So same deal as always."

"Yup," Riza chided. "Just find-"

"Our white raven symbol and you'll get the stashes," Jack said in union with the two runners. Like this one rule had been said over and over again. It really showed to Crane that Jack wasn't kidding about earlier - the Ravs had a system and they followed by the code. Just to stay alive.

"We wrapped a few of them with the red bow. Special presents for the great Wild Dog."

"You know, you could just give them to me."

The two chuckled together. "And where's the fun in that?"

Jack held in her complaint. The problem with being in a group where some of them were young adults, younger than her by a decade. Many of them just wanted to one-up a few older members and show they have clear heads. Jack examined the tranquilizer gun in hand with a few shifts of the barrel and handle - first questioning to herself again where on Earth did Lenny get one and second thinking if she could just do without it.

Still, a sleeping zombie would make the outcome of an impossible fight a million times better.

"By the way, where are you heading, Jack?" Riza asked. "Everyone back home has been wondering why you just disappeared days ago."

"The Slums." Jack clicked the slot back into the gun, only to see Riza's face scrunched up. Ender's face was unreadable behind the goggles and the face mask. But if she had to guess, they had the same expression as Riza behind their mask.

"You're kidding. Harran?" they barked. "Bones just told us. It's dangerous there."

"What's new? Everywhere's dangerous."

The twin runners didn't share her enthusiasm. "We can't convince you otherwise?" Riza asked.

Jack simply exhaled a patient sign. "Ariza, it's just a short visit. Don't get yourself in a bunch about it..." Not enough convincing. "I'll be fine."

"If we had known you'd heading there, we'd give ya the stashes up front."

She cocked out a soft smile. She didn't need their concern. That was the last thing she wanted. "Leave them be. You did all that work and it shouldn't be for nothing. Plus, I need the exercise."

"We could give ya a time limit-"

"Again. Don't push it."

It was then Ender stopped their friend from leaving just yet, a thickly gloved hand on her shoulder. They crept up to Jack's ear and quietly whispered, "Say, does your partner know about your secret assignment?"

Unknown to them, Crane caught wind of their whispers. Thank the superhuman hearing.

"Pretty much. He's sticking around until we've...completed our negotiation."

The twin runners didn't seem to like that answer. He could tell from afar.

"Didn't Bones say to keep a tight lip on this?"

Tight lip. He hadn't forgotten what Jack said way in dawn - no one outside the Ravs knew about this pet project of hers. So they wanted this under wraps. That pulled at Crane's suspicion. Exactly what was the Ravs up to...

"Asem's not gonna like this."

"Only if she doesn't find out. Yet. I'll talk to her." There was a glance over the shoulder from Jack, trying to spot the Freakoid in the distance. "He might actually be helpful with this assignment."

"How?"

"He'll surprise you."

Again, the two runners just didn't seem to agree. Or disagree. He could read it from the left one - again, trust was on very thin ice. Outsiders was another thing altogether. The groups and factions he had met and worked with never or rarely cooperated with one another. Supplies were running scarce and there was fear at every corner, infected or human.

The Ravs were no different, he could tell. That was why he couldn't accept the details about the faction as "generous". A group took care of itself. There wasn't time or resources to give a helping hand to another unless it was a desperate cry for help.

Everyone looked out for themselves, even Crane. But there wasn't any harm in keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. He had been through many factions, gaining trust in order to gain more info. And one group had no intention of doing for the right causes. So if he wanted to learn more about the Ravs, he'd have to gain their trust slowly.

...He almost wanted to laugh. He'd be dead before he'd ever talk to them.

"Okaaay," Ender sang carefully. "Just radio us if he causes you trouble."

" _Hey. I'm not like that._ " Then Crane decided to retract back his quiet statement with a shake of the head. " _Stop talking like you're normal. You're a frigging zombie._ "

"Should be the other way around," Jack exclaimed jovially. "And there's one last thing. Got a spare?"

Crane squished his golden eyes, unable to tell what she was up to. Jack had tapped at her ear and silently, the two runners knew what she wanted. There was an exchange of the hands and that finalized the entire meeting.

"We'll be around the neighborhood, Jack. Need to meet up with the locals and start business."

"But of course. Ender. Take care of Riza. And the same to you too for Ender."

"We got each other's back. You take care."

"As always." With a wave, Jack departed from the basketball court and joined her partner in the shade. "See? Told ya you'll do fine."

" _This one time. The next time, I'm expecting to be clobbered to death._ " He gazed back on the two runners, now talking to each other in a dull whisper. They were heading one way while he and Jack were going the opposite. " _They're just kids, aren't they?_ "

"College students. These two are from the business department. A number of the Ravs came from Harran University."

So between eighteen to twenty-ish. " _That's a bit concerning._ "

"They needed help. Those kids and more had a bad predicament when the outbreak started. Since then, they've stuck around. Like everyone in the Outskirts, they had nowhere else to go."

" _...They care a lot for you._ "

"I'd rather they don't. They make me worried. Never liked the idea of someone caring for me."

Another part of Jack that surprised him. " _What, don't like a gesture of good will?_ " he taunted jokingly, an effort to get more out of her.

"It's not about good will. It's about stopping for me. They should be worrying about themselves instead of others."

Stopping. It was an odd choice of word. She didn't want people to be selfless for her, but selfish for themselves - a different side compared to Rias. In fact, the entire conversation has given him a little bit of understanding about her.

"Alright. The orphanage, boat retrieval, and safe zone. Should be quick and easy."

" _Whoa, whoa._ " He stopped her, swiftly jumping in front of him. " _You're not planning to do everything today?_ "

"I don't see why not."

Ok, he took it back. This woman really...ugh. " _I hate to break it to you but you're putting too much on your plate_."

"They're my Rav mates. Gotta look out for them."

" _Alright, then find the boat tomorrow._ " Please say yes, he'd have one extra day to figure out something before they'd head to the Slums.

"You don't give me enough credit, do you?"

" _It's not about credit due. It's overworking yourself until the night falls. We don't have a lot of daylight left._ "

"And the more we talk here, it's more wasting time. I need that boat. I need to get to Harran ASAP. Before sunset."

" _You can't do both-_ "

"And I can't pick one. Not in my nature to abandon people on my watch."

Oh my god, he thought. This stubborn woman… Acting a noble, high-strung hero that could make all problems go away. And he hated that bit from her.

So what if he reminded her of her old self? She reminded him of his old lying-his-ass-off self!

Crane was set on telling her it wasn't worth it. It'd only hurt her more. But that stern glance behind the sunglasses was stopping him.

" _...You're dead set on heading to Harran?_ " It felt like a stupid question to ask. A repetitive one at that. Even Jack, while emotionless to anyone to see, was clearly judging how stupid it sounded from him.

But she was calm. Again, impassive. And dead set on her main goal.

"I have to. For family."

It was straightforward. Again. An honest response surrounded by death, despair and burning flesh.

"Same goes for the Ravs. They're family too."

That put the icing on the cake. Was Crane a sucker to this kind of speech? But it got him. It hit at his regained sense of humanity.

" _I'm gonna regret this,_ " he mumbled to himself, and surely Jack heard it. " _Alright. But you can't do all of this in one day. Well, half a day. And alone._ "

"What are you suggesting?"

" _I'm suggesting that we divide and conquer._ "

Jack raised an eyebrow at the surprising suggestion. "That's...not a bad idea. But you're sure about this?"

" _There's not much I can do other than wait while you're at the orphanage,_ " he explained. " _I ain't gonna be lazy and sit my ass all day. Let me do the safe zone._ "

"You? The safe zone?"

" _Yeah._ "

"With the UV lights?"

Ah.

Right.

" _I'll...worry about those when I get there._ "

"I think I should be the one worrying for you, mate," Jack muttered.

" _What? I've done this before. This is a walk in the park,_ " he gloated.

"Really?" Crane regretted saying that. That was a slip of the tongue - how easy it was for him to fall back into the old Hero of Harran like it was routine. However, Jack didn't seem to push on his slip-up and heaved out a sigh. "Still, would make things easy for me."

" _Yeah. And you can get this boat before dinner time._ "

Jack folded her arms, easily looking a little put off by the sentence.

" _I don't mean it like that,_ " Crane snapped.

"That's still one tiny problem. We're going off on our own. And while we both agreed that you don't need a babysitter...you don't have me to stop you from going off unhinged."

" _Yeah. I haven't forgotten… But you have the tracker on me._ "

"That. And one step further." She flipped something into his hands. Claws. A new set of an earpiece for two-way communication - the kind he had used when he was a human and now long gone during his feral time. "Don't hesitate to contact me on anything. And since you're so eager for work, I can pass over more stuff your way. Share the workload together."

" _Anything reasonable. Heck, give me some a-holes to go beat up._ "

"Riiight, with your fists or your teeth?"

"I am not gonna eat anyone," he hissed verbally. Stop beating around the bush that he was a Hunter. He knew too!

"I'm just saying." She held out her palms defensively. "You are now a reformed zombie. So try not to make a reputation of yourself. You've already spooked the people at the Junction earlier."

" _Good people, of course. It's the crooks I want. I can take out them like it's nothing and that can help the survivors greatly. I can give them a chance in living...as crazy as it sounds. Given my situation._ "

"Weren't you saying you'd get shot the moment people see you?"

" _Hey, you're backing out of the whole 'making me look less of a zombie'?_ "

"Of course not. That's one of my best ideas yet."

" _Yeah, don't wanna know how well your others were,_ " Crane mumbled. " _Look, you wanna be my wingman, right? You do the talking. I'll do the work._ "

"Ha!" Jack chirped. "Now I can't let ya take all the work. You hired me, remember?" She thought on it regardless. "Alright. We'll give this a shot. Markos Museum is down north, past the highway. Only ancient-looking building inside the city."

" _Alright_." That should be easy to find. He took one deep breath to prepare himself before he'd leap off on tendril locomotive. " _I hate to say this, I really do...but you're only my hope I don't fall off the deep end again._ "

"Aw. How flattering. I'm your backup," she droned, watching him visually roll his eyes.

Yes, a zombie rolling his eyes. Comical but he didn't care.

"Hey, Freakoid." He stopped and wheeled back to spy a stern face on her. "I told you already that this virus is changing. Fast. You've seen some examples but be on the lookout for any more new ones."

" _Thrilling_." Made it more fun for him. " _Just how many are there?_ "

"No one knows. It's a whole different story back in the Outskirts. That's why it's important to note down how many new ones are out there."

" _And do this whole pet project of yours? Your venom...blood, thingie._ "

"Leave the blood testing to me. That's my job."

" _Ok, sure. But if I see one...then what?_ "

Jack snorted. "Easy."

She tossed something with a quick swap of her hand. It was getting routine now - a passing gesture of an item that Crane could easily catch with his tendrils. And immediately slapping onto his palm was a bag of strange, small devices. Trackers.

"Bag 'em and tag 'em."

* * *

Saint Sandrine Orphanage was easy to find. In what was once an old, historical street of Scanderoon, the old, dark-stoned walls made the structure stand out from the newly-renovated surrounding buildings. The old church-like base was in the midst of reconstructing just before the second outbreak hit, adorned with scaffolding on all sides. It was an ideal stronghold, with UV lights and spikes securing the entrances and the tall stone fence surrounding it.

"Hold it." The first man, gun-prepared, stopped her before the barricaded gates. Jack held out her hands - she wasn't a danger.

"You got a call from the Junction about hired help. Jack's the name."

Some exchange of words between more people at the back and she was given the OK to step into their grounds.

She examined the Cicadas. Less manpower compared to the Junction, which was discouraging to see. What was more concerning was the children. Six, seven, eight she counted on her way to the Inner Court. And Jack was going to expect that number higher the further she went into the building.

"Well, it's an orphanage. What would you expect, Jackie?" she mumbled to herself.

"Hey." A voice hollered to her and she spotted the hand wave. The leader, she gathered and the dark-skinned woman showed her authority well with little fault. "Mahir did say he was sending a celebrity over. I didn't think he was serious."

"Retired celebrity. I'm just your normal, average errand gal."

"Yeah, he also said to put you to work," the woman added. "Sister Mary Francine."

"Sister?" Jack checked her up and down. "Aren't you supposed to be wearing nun clothes-"

"Nuns and Sisters are two different terms, Miss Brecken. And try running around in a dress and tell me how that goes. You got no choice but to be practical."

"Can't disagree with that."

 _Crash! Clank! Clank!_

It was a bunch of loud sounds that freaked everyone in the Inner Court out. Even Jack was put on the edge, ready to parry. It was only the fallen toolbox from the top of crates on a moving pushcart. The cart driver was a chubby man - a previous Stuffed Turtle employee before he landed in the orphanage's walls for protection.

"Butterfingers! I told you to be careful!" Sister Mary Francine snapped at the now-cowering man, who was quick to apologize and pick up the spilled tools and box. The sister could only sigh heavily like this was a regular, tiring thing. "Marvin wants you on cooking duty again."

The tone was much gentler than her earlier outburst, she didn't mean ill-will to snap. But the bumbling fool was still apologetic. Very low self-esteem there. "Sure, sure. Sorry, sorry."

"It's ok, Carl… Take five before you go see Marvin."

"You got your hands full, huh?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Sister Mary Francine replied to the brawler. "So I've heard you're looking for a boat?"

Change the topic. Jack compelled to follow. "Siv told me it was at some canal. And you know where."

"Red Rill. And it's got some friends too. Prison mates."

"What? They're planning to bail out of the city on boat?" Jack chided.

"Please. No one in their right mind wants to head to the waters."

"I can concur from experience. That can't be all? You have some compromise for the boat, haven't you?"

"We can do one more better. I only need one thing from you and that will be it."

Jack jerked her head back. "What? C'mon, I don't mind taking more jobs."

"Well, you're gonna have to earn our trust first, Brecken. We're a little on the edge at the moment to be accepting of others' help."

"Sounds like you had a rough time before I came here."

"Rough. And disappointed. One of our own decided to take all our Antizin to the Rill. Damn traitor made a deal with this man named Celso."

The name immediately rattled Jack up. "Celso."

"Sounds like you know him."

"Yeaaah, can't deny that. He's been a thorn in my side before."

"Then you're not alone He's been a thorn to everyone's side in Scanderoon. He managed to create an operation faster than us and the Junction."

"Yeah...it is kinda odd for him to be this quick with an outbreak...but he talks the talk. That's how he gets people to do the walk for him."

"That's a little more detailed than I expected."

"Eh, you hear all sorts of chatter for big crime bosses and drug lords. Etc. The newspapers are always blabbering anything to get attention."

"Hm," Sister Mary Francine hummed, not entirely buying what Jack said but left it at that. "They're planning to bring our goods to their HQ tonight." For another rigged fighting event, no doubt. "You get your boat, you bring those stolen Antizin stock to us. Mahir's given you the word you're a face to trust."

"So do I already get to be on your list of friends?"

"We'll see about that. You've got a long way before we can call each other buddies."

"Heh." She smirked. "That's alright. Trust builds friendship."

Sister Mary Francine gave a slight approving scoff.

" _Jack_."

"Geezus!" Jack leaped at the voice in her ear, nearly alarming to the Sister with her hand leaping for the weapon at her belt.

That was the fright of her life. Now Jack regretted ever giving that earpiece to Freakoid. The telepathic communication was one thing, hearing him speak was another but hearing it through the radio was an entirely different thing altogether.

"Sorry, need to take this call. I'll get your stock" Jack took off to an empty hallway, away from any wandering and passing ear. "You gave me a heart attack, mate."

He grumbled on the other end of the line. " _Hey. It's not like I can change my voice. And I can't 'speak telepathically' over the comm._ "

"Fair enough. What's up? A safe zone isn't too much for you?"

" _Hardly. I'm already in the area. But I spotted some men heading your direction._ "

"Doesn't sound like a problem."

" _They said your name. They're looking for you._ "

"Ahhh. Well, we did sabotage their fighting ring last night. Of course, we'd piss people off."

" _What's this we? You were the one trying to steal Antizin from a prison._ "

"And you could have turn tail instead of helping me. Don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

" _I'm not worried. You've shown me enough you can do just that. I'm just giving you a heads up. Also, there's an overcast coming in._ "

Jack glanced out of a faraway window to see the rolling grey clouds cover the sky. The wind must have picked up and moved them towards the city. She could hear the thunder louder than before.

The storm was getting closer.

"Rain. Not a good thing to hear."

" _What? A little rain never hurt anyone._ "

"A little, maybe. A lot, definitely. It's just as dangerous as the nighttime. Obscures your sight and makes everywhere slippery and hard for runners to get around. Outskirts' no joke. And I don't advise you to test yourself on wet terrain."

" _Huh...never really got much rain back in the Slums._ "

"That's because Harran's gone through regular droughts. Doesn't have monsoons, unlike the outer places."

" _I…_ " Again another slip of the tongue. " _Nothing. Forget I said anything… Just a flash._ "

"Hm-hm." He clearly had some memory. But she shouldn't pry in any further - sometimes memories can be good or bad. Who was to say Jack might make him lose his mind at remembering something terrifying?

So she let it go. This one time.

"Well, whatever you just remembered, don't take it like this is Harran. This is a whole new experience for you."

" _This isn't my first time surviving an outbreak. I know what I'm doing._ "

"I got it. You are my client. Just making sure you don't die on me. A second time."

" _Just find your boat. I'm heading to the safe zone now._ "

"Sure, sure. I'll meet ya at the museum in an hour." With that, Jack was ready to leave - only to be stopped by one thing that stood out in the orphanage.

The saint's statue overlooked everyone from its pedestal. The carved stone was eroded from years outside before having moved inside for restoration. There was an overwhelmingly peaceful air from the sad eyes. As if saying that her frozen suffering was nothing compared to the millions in Scanderoon right now. She was weeping for the city.

"Daughter of Harsim Şamdereli the old King of Harran, protector against fire, patron saint of the city's children, runaways, the stray dogs and most of all, refugees like us."

Strolling up to the ex-kickboxer was a man in his forties to fifties with a wise aura behind those old-fashioned, round-rimmed glasses and native to the city. Attire was one thing that surprised her - it wasn't that of a runner, a civilian or a brawler like her but with the gear of an archeologist, fedora hat included and draped over his back by a string.

"Originally named Kader Şamdereli before she changed her name. After her family was dethroned during the City Walls rebellion and fled to Scanderoon. It was said she prayed to God for the rains to come and for one week, it did. One week of salvation to quench the rebels' anger down," the man, proud and enlightened to recite the tale to a stranger, explained. "Saint Sandrine herself in stone. Marvelous sight, isn't it? It's one of the city's prized landmarks," he chuckled.

"Not much into history, to be honest, but I can agree she is something."

"That's only the surface, miss. Harran's past rebellions bled into the city of Scanderoon that she went in to stop it with just her kind words. Saint Sandrine took those fleeing from the rebellions under her wing and used the very stones torn off from the City Walls for this orphanage as their home."

"Heh. Sounds a bit like Asem back home," she said to herself. "Except the kindness part. She has more of a...motherly iron grip, I suppose."

"Perhaps that's for the better. Kindness can only go so far, even in the modern world. Saint Sandrine's reward was sadly paid by one of the rebels killing her. And yet, up to her death, her last words were forgiveness to her murderer."

"Ouch. Pathetic way to go. I'd rather haunt the guy if that were to happen to me. But each their own."

"Umit Solak," he introduced with a strong handshake.

"Ahhh. The famous archaeologist. I heard about that dig over at the Western Border."

"Ha. Not as infamous as you, Miss Brecken. I'm just a simple man interested in these lands' history."

"Simple. Y'know, I met a couple of GRE soldiers looking for you." The man was stiff as a tree, completely unfazed that an organization was after his name. But there was a displeasing frown. "You seemed to have anger someone high up."

"More like it was the other way around. Had some disagreements with them in the past."

"That's something. Why would a humanitarian organization want with you?"

"Well, I've had given archaeological lessons for them in the past. And…" At first, the man was reluctant to spill the beans, not to some random person, but he gave it a second thought. "Have you heard about the Sundial artifact?"

"It was all over the news months ago. Before the outbreak. Some big discovery dating way about the start of Harran's reign."

"I guess the news wouldn't give a more detailed explanation," he grumbled at the lack thereof. "But yes. It's to do with an old civilization's avatar called the God of the Sun. Heard of it?"

"Can't say I have."

"Ah. Well, that name is supposed...some sort of deity a nearby settlement's ancestors used to worship. And in one part of Harran, their traditions are still existing for hundreds of years. To this very day."

"Lot of dedication there."

"Well, of course. Gods were made by man, Miss Brecken. And that is because there was someone who 'stoke the flames' into the hearts of people that in their eyes, that someone stood as a god. That's how it goes in mythology. The great stories exaggerated by mortals that we ended up believing in legends."

"Mythology and history are two different things, aren't they?"

"Yes, but even so, mythology still takes roots into history. I believe that the God of the Sun was a real human. More importantly, that he was the first King." Jack could easily tell that the man had a glimpse of a child who had opened the biggest present on Christmas morning. "The very one who founded the city of Harran and built the City Walls as well."

"I thought Harsim was the first king, even naming the city Harran after him."

"That's in the history books. Our discovery, however, proves otherwise. What most people don't know was that the God of the Sun named the city after his son. Harsim was never the first king. He might actually have been a descendant of the God of the Sun."

"Huh. That could shake people up. Having a bit of history change on a dime like that."

"Perhaps. Most of the records dating before the Harran rebellions were lost thanks to the Ottoman Empire. And the Sundial artifact has given us so much we could ask for," Solak pointed, starting pacing in a circle like a man brimmed with wonderful thoughts that needed to come out. "There had been an ongoing discussion back at the Ministry of Culture. That the walls dated around the same time as the oldest buildings of Harran. But! The Sundial dig site proved otherwise. We found figurines and tokens showing carvings of the City Walls. However, later antique coins have the city imprinted on them. That meant the walls were built before Harran. The first King had a reason to protect his people over giving them a home."

"Well, this country had its fair share of conquerors. Romans, Persians, the Turks themselves, you name it. Those are a pretty good reason for him to build defenses first."

"I see you know your history."

"Just the basics, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't be. It's rather refreshing to meet someone with one foot in instead of no feet in." The man with the glasses chuckled at his own amusement.

Jack didn't share his enthusiasm but she tried to keep a good face. "All of this does sound big. Doesn't explain GRE."

And that was enough to sour Solak's mood. "Well, yes. Them. Do you know what they did? Those incompetent cretins decided to up and take the artifact. Didn't give me a reason," he scoffed. "I wiped my hands off them after that."

"Really? A big expedition taken away from you? Even I'd give them a piece of my mind."

"I've given it and they didn't listen. It did hurt my pride and joy to see what could have been Harran's greatest treasure taken like that. From the people. Us." Solak let loose a tired sigh. "Then came this outbreak and well...I suppose, we won't be living long to see the artifact on display."

"And GRE's looking for you even now."

"Hmph. Whatever they want, I want nothing to do with them," Solak added. "You should too. GRE caused this whole mess and they'll be nothing but trouble for everyone."

"I've had some run-ins with them so I'll take your word."

Solak nodded approvingly. "That will keep you alive."

"Isn't that what we all want? Live yet another day. It was nice to meet a well-known man, Solak. Hope to see each other intact."

"Leaving so soon?" he uttered with honest curiosity.

"While your speech on Harran history is entertaining, duty calls. Helping survivors, killing zombies, all that. We only have so many hours in the day after all."

"True, true. But you can afford a little more time. Seems like you've got some onlookers."

Jack furrowed her eyes at the man pointing something behind her. She wheeled back to see nobody was standing there.

Correction, nobody at her height. She glanced down to see four, five sets of beaming eyes back at her.

The orphans. At least some of them either curious to meet the Mad Jack herself or wary of another adult in the building. Their watchful gazes made her feel a little...awkward was the right word. Like the Wild Dog needed to be on good behavior to a bunch of pups.

And they didn't look like the kind that would leave her be if she said she had to go.

"Ummm...hello?"

And she was pounced with questions of all sorts.

* * *

A/N: Hello again! And yes a new chapter, which I didn't actually expect to finish tonite (at 3 am too). However, this makes a good apology to you guys for a long hatius. Also, this was a really fun chapter, with not only ideas around the factions, the locations and even character development between Jack and Crane but also the background lore connecting to Dying Light's.

I actually have a theory that a lot of the lore and history are connected together, even with the Following's. I might actually be wrong however, because I got a confession - I didn't fully finish the game and some details are vague other than what I remember. I've actually been playing DL with a fresh start (and a new comp setup) so I am gonna be fixing mistakes I put down. And don't hesitate to call me out if some doesn't work. I do wanna keep true to the DL writing as much as I can.

Speaking of fixes, I'm also going back over my previous chapters now that I'm playing DL. I noticed some details I missed or put wrongly and wanted to change that. This can be from locations, durations, characters involvements and events, etc. Like the mention of the Antizin drop being stopped at one point of the game. First four chapters are done and I plan to do the next few tmr. Another minor thing is the new characters' names. I felt like I was using the same alphabet like a lot of R names and I wanted to give more variety to my OCs (not Jack because she's already too good). I will write in my author's note which character's name has been changed so not to confuse you guys but do expect them.

Lastly, this chapter WAS supposed to include a new infected type but I decided that this chapter was going on a bit too long so that part will be in the next one. This chapter did have a lot of dialogue but I hope that was ok.

Anyway, enough talk. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. R'n'R! Nite zzzzz.

Edit: Took the ending of this chp and am moving it forward to the next chp instead.


	14. INTERMISSION: HIDE 'N' SEEK

**INTERMISSION: HIDE 'N' SEEK**

* * *

"Have you beaten up bad guys?"

"Uh-"

"Do boxers pump themselves up with steroids every day?"

"That's-"

"Do you have special combo moves? Like Up-down-up-down, left-right-left-right."

"Wait, what-"

"Is it true what you do is fake? Big Tommy told us it's like wrestling."

"Um, who-"

"Hilmi said you bite people."

"No, I didn't say that!"

"That's kinda-"

"How many zombies have you killed before you came here?"

"Do you do autographs?!"

"Do you have a favorite animal? Is it a dog?"

"Wait, hang on a sec - Hold on! **_Time out! TIME OUT!_ **"

And finally, the chatter ceased at the rising, panicked voice of Jack Brecken. There was a tiny flash of fright in those eyes - this has happened before, she could tell. The kind that read to her they have been told to stop misbehaving if they stepped on toes. They were children who knew little of right or wrong and that balance scale of morality was put to the test many times by men who cracked under the nightmares.

Jack almost thought she had made a mistake. There were no other adults around to help her - they had their own business to worry about and Solak had already left.

So quickly, she swung back to her usual, cheeky self.

"First off, I've beaten up bad guys. No, we don't do that stuff. That's illegal in kickboxing and any sport. Yes and no, we do have moves but nothing like what you said. And, Tommy's a big fat liar. Kickboxing's real. And, ye-esss, I've sorta bitten people before. Don't do it, children. I've killed a couple on my way here. Yes, I do autographs. And no..." she finally caught her breath. "My favorite animal is the tiger. Phew...anymore questions?"

The children glanced at each other timidly - hoping that one would spur out another question. They didn't want the new face leaving. Just yet. But they were as quiet as mice.

"Heh." She smirked, breaking down the thick anxiety in the air. "Impressive. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." The seconds irkingly drew on. Still nothing but awe from the kids and nervousness from the adult. "...Sooo, one of you said autographs-"

And immediately, as jumpy as the Biters outside but livelier than the undead, the little ones leaped up and down on their toes. Some scattered for a piece of paper and pen - something that was gonna be proven difficult for them.

Yeah. One little thing Jack kinda missed during her old days.

One short child had already gotten the first go, passing her a napkin and a red crayon she was carrying around. With a swift go of her wrist, she signed her name. "Here you go."

The boy giggled wildly and scrambled off to show his new-found toy.

"Pft!"

A little scoff to her right. At the spot behind where the crowd of children once stood was one child. A girl. Ten, Jack guessed. And yes, she had the same demeanor and expression as Siv did on first meeting. Almost made Jack wonder if she were related.

"Would you like an autograph too?" Jack offered. She had already read the girl's move tenfold. She did not like Jack at all.

"No thanks. I'd rather get one from the Scorpion. She's better."

"Ouch. Touche. So you know about the championship?"

"Of course. She's the best kickboxer in this country."

"I cannot deny that," Jack chided. "Sooo, eight, seven years old watched a kickboxing tournament-"

"I'm thirteen."

"Huh." Ok, she was off on the age by...three, four years.

"And it was my father who took me there. At the Sports Palace."

"Ah. Front row seats?"

"Of course. The best for us."

"Niiice." The tension was slowly dispersing between them. "So...what's your name, little one?"

Then it seeped back with the girl folding her arms. "I'm not telling ya-"

"Her name's Lina. With an I."

"Shut up, Rashid!" the girl with the glasses snapped to one of the children nearby.

"Lina. Pretty name. I know a Lena. With an E."

"Nuh-uh," Lina immediately cut her down. "We don't take sweet talk."

"I'm only honest. It's pretty. The others agree, right?"

A few of the girls around Lina bounced with accordance. Some of the boys were quiet but they did see eye to eye on the name.

"Still not taking sweet talk. If you want us to like you, you've gotta prove yourself."

"What is this, Lord of the Flies?" Jack exclaimed. Man, did this girl know how to keep a strong front.

"Please. There's no way you can fight those Biters outside. You're old news."

"Oh boy. What is up with children these days," Jack grumbled. Did their parents ever teach them manners?

"Yeah. I said it. You stopped being champion a year ago."

"Berat betted you to say it."

"No, he did not!" That clearly was a lie writing all over it. Lina turned back, almost making Jack think she just read her mind and was insulted. "She can't even outrun them."

"Ok, now, that's being ridiculous. How would I have gotten here then?" Jack interrupted the childish argument.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking my ass off like I'm a bigshot," Lina spat at Jack. And the little curse slipping off her tongue made some of the younger ones gasp. She said a bad word, they whispered.

"Language."

"Oh, c'mon. Who cares about that in an apocalypse?"

Jack didn't budge. She was tapping her foot with arms folded.

"Fine." Lina rolled her eyes. Teenage antics. Was Jack ever like this when she was her age?

"Alright. So I take it there's some proving ground for me to do. An evaluation until you think I'm still in my game."

The young child ran her eyes up and down on the adult. She was schmuck about her next move. "Really think you're up to it?"

"Of course. Nothing I can't handle. So what's the game of choice?" It couldn't be too ridiculous-

"Hide 'n' seek!"

Lina was about to answer but one of the little ones cut her to the chase. She glared angrily at the interrupter with wide eyes but it was already too late. The others were keen on the suggestion.

"Yeah! Hide 'n' seek! Hide 'n' seek!"

"What?! No! There's no way she'll do it-"

"Lina, she can't get to the top areas. She's not gonna find us," said the tall boy.

"I can hear you," Jack grumbled. Just how many times were these kids gonna kick her in the shin?

The group of children huddled together in their debating. Some agreed, some didn't, some just wanted another game instead. Finally, five childrens glanced back to the brunette.

"Alright," Lina started, obviously taking the lead. "You gotta find the six of us throughout the building. No asking the grown-ups, no cheating and boundaries' at the walls. No going outside."

"I certainly hope not," Jack added. "Do I get a reward for this little game?"

"Of course. And a good one," one of the boys added.

"So? Are you up to it?" Lina chided.

The ex-kickboxer pondered, huffing through her nose. She did need to find that boat. And meet up with Freakoid. _And_ there was so much daylight left.

"Yeah. Why not?"

The little smiles grew bigger.

"Ok."

"Cool!"

"Yay!"

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lina demanded.

"Uh-"

"What? Have you never played Hide 'n' seek before?"

Jack scoffed. "Of course, I have. I think."

"Then count to 30."

Ah, right. "Alright, alright" Jack wheeled around, her back to the giggling children. "1. 2. 3. 4."

She could hear the whispers. There were some hints she picked up and the children's scrambling - they were choosing their spots but quickly switching around their decisions on a whim. They wanted to make this hard for her.

Out of curiosity, once she was at ten, she slowly glanced over her shoulder.

But Lina spotted her quickly.

"Hey! No peeking!"

"Finnne." Jack turned back. "11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17."

She counted down, listening for the little footsteps squeak across the marble floor. Some went to the east. Others went upstairs.

"28. 29. 30." Jack turned to an Inner Courtyard emptied of bright-eyed children. "Here we go."

The first thing she did was sweep the ground floor. Some of the smaller ones, with their short legs, wouldn't go too far away. They'd want the quickest spots.

"Found you."

"Aw! No fair," whined little Hilmi, hiding under the staircase near the kitchen.

"Don't be upset. Using that vase was a nice touch."

"Heehee!" The eight-year-old then hurried off to the Inner Courtyard. Maybe to wait for the others that Jack would find. The Second hiding spot wasn't as difficult as the first. It needed some discreet entering the room, however. People would get lots of ideas on Jack if they saw her.

"Hey! You can't come in here."

"And you should know better using a Gents' room as a hiding spot. That's cheating."

"All's fair between men and woman."

"Where on Earth did you hear that from?" Jack asked curiously. This boy was around nine, not close to knowing such things. Right?

"The Sisters… I didn't get it… But it was a smart idea," Eren said in his defense.

"Of course, of course. Now run off."

Now was the next few spots. Jack was done with the first floor that she had to move up to the second.

"Peek-a-boo," she sang, peeking under the bed of the main dormitory.

"Heehee!" giggled Melek, the tiniest among the small group.

"Come on." She gently pulled the girl right up, with a little toss in the air and a little happy squeal out of her.

"Again! Again!"

"Next time, dearie," Jack whined softly. Omph, she felt her back pulled. Carefully, Jack brought her down and brushed the pesky dust bunnies off the girl's dress shirt. "Off you go."

Out the tiny girl went and out Jack went, stretching out the knot. The next few rooms to sweep was the sickbay and a laundry room.

However, Jack was quick to decide the sickbay might not be a choice the kids would pick. Not where there were two Sisters tending to the injured and sick. And the laundry room was a no-go when she saw the stocked weaponry there.

But she stopped and loitered against the door entrance.

"I'd advise you children not to use this spot anymore. This looks pretty dangerous."

No response. So Jack unlocked the closet door.

The innocent brown eyes peeked out of the small utility room. "This one's ok. I'm not inside the stockroom."

"Hm. I'll give ya that. But no more staying in the utility room. Ok?"

Rashid was quiet. He had no intention of giving up this spot. At least, not entirely. "Are you gonna tell the Sisters?"

"No," Jack replied. "I won't tell them."

"...Ok. I won't use this again. I'll tell the others too."

"Much obliged."

Four out of six. Not too bad. However, the last two were proving to be tricky. They were nowhere on the rest of the second floor so, by her deduction, they had to be on the third floor." Jack galloped off to the stairway. Only to see two men tending to the way up, with hammers, nails and other tools.

"Miss, be careful of the stairs. The wood's rotten from the heavy rains." The constructor pointed to the plank of wood against the damaged area - one 'safer' way to get upstairs.

"Noted. Did anyone go upstairs?"

"Yeah. A few Sisters and watchmen."

"Any children?"

"Children? They know better than to go to the third floor."

"Ah. I see." Jack strolled away. No point in giving the grown-ups ideas someone disobeyed a rule. "That means they're still on this floor." Maybe she missed a hidden room or something.

Then her eyes danced onto an open window at the children's dormitory.

She had noticed it before when she combed the floor. It was a damning, horrible mistake that someone would do. If a zombie could fly or leap over the walls and UV lights, they would certainly find this little entrance and slaughter everyone.

No adult in the orphanage or any safe area would leave a window opened.

But a child was another matter.

"What are the odds they took this way..."

Hopped she went through the window.

"Woooo!" Jack couldn't finish her sentence of "whoa!". It was a very, _very_ long way down from up there. "There's no way they'd go through here...right...? No, they went this way."

There were traces of crayon marking in all various colors, along the old stone walls. What an odd place for doodles to be. And more organized ones that spoke to the reader, this way, that way, don't take this window. They were there long before the outbreak started, but younger than the vines leading up to the third floor.

The older kids...they did have the skills to climb all sorts of places. Like trees. More adventurous and thoughtful on their imagination.

Jack found the next open window, leading into what looked like a lone attic room. And by the gaping door was one of the hiders, all too focused on what was outside to hear Jack sneaking in. Right behind him.

"What you're looking for?"

Liam spun with a jump in his boots. Almost tripping back but Jack was quick in pulling him back on his feet. "Don't scare me!"

She chuckled. "Apology. Did you find a zombie lurking on this floor?"

"No. They don't come in." Jack's thumb jamming over her shoulder to the open window said a different story. And Liam, with wide eyes, puffed with anxiety. "We close the windows before nighttime. If the Sisters find out-"

"Alright. Alright. Still crazy for you kids to be doing that… All ok?"

Liam was busy looking back and forth from the door, unable to keep eye to eye on the brunette. The eleven-year-old boy was scared of something, alright. "...Sister James' on this floor… She'll get mad if she catches us."

"Ah. Alright. I'll tell her I didn't see you. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Hold on." She stopped him. "You're not going...back the same way, right?"

His lips were sealed tight but Liam's eyes said yes.

"You kids are gonna be the death of me…" Jack did nothing else to stop him. With a watchful eye locked on Liam, she observed him carefully ascended down the roof tiles and into the second floor window. She waited another five seconds to see the young boy wave back a thumbs-up.

Jack had been holding her breath so tight she could feel her head go light. Her fingers went white on the window sill. "I was almost ready to bolt and grab him if that kid fell… Heh, they sure showed me."

Now, it was the sixth kid left-

"-this is the fifth time!"

The harsh voice of a woman boomed outside the bedroom. It was down the hallway, where Jack spotted the thirteen-year-old, glasses-wearing girl with a Sister.

A Sister with a ruler in hand.

"You have been told many times you are not allowed on this floor. It's too dangerous for you children to be wandering around," barked the Sister.

"It's just stairs. There's nothing up here anyway."

"That is not the point. What were you doing up here?"

"None of your business," Lina snapped softly. She had no intention to tell an adult she was playing a game with Jack. "I'll save it for confession."

A smart-ars- then Jack stopped that train of thought. A smart aleck she should called Lina.

But that didn't impress the Sister like it did to Jack. In fact, it ticked her off. "...That is the crux of your problem, isn't it?"

To what expense was Lina trying to gain? This didn't seem like the first time to Jack. And it certainly wouldn't be the last with that kind of attitude.

She could have just admitted the truth, and Jack would walk right out and vouch for her. Take the heat off her. And yet, for some reason, Lina refrained from speaking. Maybe too desperate to spill the beans.

"You can't keep doing this," Lina talked back. "To everyone. Sister Mary Francine will know-"

"Enough!" the Sister snapped, letting the silence draw on. Only the sound of her heel tapping impatiently and loudly was all anyone could listen. "...I've tried everything to help you. But you seem insistent on ending up the same way your father did… Dragging everyone down with you.

...What a waste."

That stung, more painful than a bee's sting. Worst than getting bitten by a zombie. Lina's lips quivered and the sides of her squished eyes watered. She rubbed her left wrist tightly. What was worst was that her parent, probably long dead outside, had to be brought out to put salt on the wound.

The Sister didn't notice Jack hounding out of the bedroom and up to her. The woman in blue was too bent on keeping her authority up high at the young girl.

"Now go to your room. We'll discuss your punishment later-"

"Hey." Jack's interference surprised the two but she still shone out her catty grin in such a heavy atmosphere. "Are you the Head Sister of this orphanage?"

"I'm sorry. Who are you?" the Sister impatiently uttered at her. Another person who didn't recognize her.

"Brecken. The Junction sent me. And what's your name, miss?"

"It's Sister James. And I'm not the head. Sister Mary Francine is-"

"Ah. Sister James. Right! My mistake. I was looking for you." Jack roped her arm around the surprised Sister's shoulders, taking her away from the surprised, wide-eyed Lina. "Could I have a word with you? For a minute. Adult to adult." And before the Sister could object, Jack was already on the next move. "Run along, kiddo. I saw your friends waiting at the Inner Courtyard. So, Sister James. I'm running around to gather some requests. Anything to help the good people round here. Know what I mean?"

"I...can't think of anything right now. I am a very busy woman, as you can see, but-"

"Of course, of course. Same said for me. I'm a busy woman too. But we can spare a minute or two. It's not like those things outside can waltz right in," Jack droned, keeping them on a path to who knew anywhere. Not even Sister James knew. She knew where every door led to what room but where the destination this woman was taking her, it was unknown. "Must be tough running an orphanage. Before and after all Hell broke loose. Pardon my French there."

"I think you know the situation just as much as we all do. We're all trying to survive. Too many tried to take refugee here during the first three days of the infection."

"This is a historical place and a place for sanctuary. Anyone would come here."

"Well, not many stayed around. Some got tired waiting for anything to happen and left. A few too hopeful to find some way out of Scanderoon."

"Oh. Did they ever find it?"

"Please. You've heard Harran, right? No one could get out. And same is said for this city."

"You don't have much faith in them?"

"Faith is one thing. Ignorance over others is another. Some of those people left behind their children, thinking this would be a safe place. They did not think enough that their choice would be affect these little minds."

"Heh. Hehehehe… Oh, how poetic."

The Sister raised an eyebrow at that sentence. "I'm sorry?"

"People make last-minute decisions. There's no time for rational thinking."

"Well, they should have controlled their children a little more before dropping them here. We have lives here."

"You can't fault the parents for thinking this was the safest spot in all of Scanderoon for their children. Better than their own homes."

"Perhaps. It doesn't make it easy for us to tell their children they are not coming back. Or that any time, we could all die. That girl, Lina, she needs to see it that way. She needs to stop being like her father… He managed to rally a few other men and convinced them to go on a rescue mission. A pointless rescue. No one survived. How stupid." Sister James was all caught up in her speech, she barely saw the little twitch in Jack's tightening fist. Almost a hairline away of being punched. "We have always kept a firm hand on the orphans, even on the new ones. They need to learn more than ever they can't be clumsy and bring others down with them."

"So it's alright to demoralize their children for their decisions? Punish them for the sins of their fathers?"

Their walking stopped.

Sister James looked at her sternly. She didn't like where this was going. "Miss, these children forget every day that we are in peril. One mistake and they'll surely get themselves killed. Everyone else too. I'm only reminding them that they're lucky to be alive and no one needs their shenanigans disturbing everyone."

Everything Jack listened just sounded like a joke, an excuse. The same thing she had heard over and over before.

"Hm-hm. Yeah. Sure," Jack mumbled, closing the gap between them.

And her arm fired.

 _THUD!_

Sister James' face was drained of all color. In less than a second, she found herself being pinned up to the wall. And what she saw before her wasn't the calm, collected and unreasonable woman she was talking to.

It was a predator. Not like the ones outside these walls.

"What are you doing-?!" Sister James yelled. She was far away from any help to hear her pled.

"Listen carefully. You're not the only one with her string hung tight. Everyone's in the same predicament as you are, _Sister_. But that doesn't give you the right to take it out on others. Psychologically and physically."

"What are you talking-"

Not what Jack wanted to hear. And she shoved the woman to stay quiet. "How often do you tell everyone that these children are 'clumsy?' Because those bruises on their arms don't look like any bump."

"W-What? They're just a slap on the wrists!"

"A slap?" She gave a resentful laugh, almost equivalent to a hyena too tired to give any shit. "Love, I've gotten all kinds of blues and blacks. I know the difference. And I'm pretty sure God knows that too. If I don't see your act change by the time I come back, you're gonna be praying for a lot more than just help."

There was no reasoning with an unleashed dog. And even if Sister James were to deny her claim, try to spin it around in her favor, there would be no stopping the teeth from firing.

"Understand?"

Jack didn't get a reply. She never expected an answer. She didn't care for an excuse.

"Don't," Jack warned. "Call anyone 'a waste'."

The Sister couldn't move. She didn't have the courage to get her free. No way could she fight those zombies outside and no way could she win against a professional.

"Are we clear?"

Sister James nodded - first it was a few slow, timid ones, and then the nodding became aggressive.

"Good." She unhooked her arm off her throat. There was no apologetic demeanor from her, no regard that she tried to put a person of the holy profession at a necklock. She simply smiled and patted the dust off the Sister's blue top. "Godspeed, Sister."

And Jack left. She didn't turn back to see the petrified Sister slide down the wall, still processing if she had just survived something far worse than being devoured by the Virals outside.

* * *

Jack stretched out her arms as she strolled for the exit. That workout was an interesting one - put her to the test and led her to discover the building's little secrets. It did make her wonder if there were a lot more hiding under the city's grounds. Like old tunnels, secret passages, etc.

"Hey."

She stopped and wheeled to see Lina not too far.

"Weren't you sent to your room?" she asked, only to get a scoff.

"Sister James doesn't know everything about this orphanage."

"Oh. There are more places I haven't seen?"

"Of course. I'm not telling ya what and where they are."

"Fair enough. You'd need a good advantage anyway," Jack chuckled with her wide grin. "This place has so many hidey-holes those creeps outside can't find ya."

Lina's smile melted down. "Eren saw what you did… Sister James' not gonna like that."

"And I don't get a…" she held back her word. Remember, children. Hold your tongue, Jackie. "Dog's butt what she thinks of me."

"Heh. Dog's butt. Nice one."

Jack just shrugged shamelessly.

"...Thank you. You didn't need to-"

"Maybe… But I've been told that before. Never liked it."

"Oh… From your parents?"

"Oh. No, no, no. My parents loved me… Someone else said those words to me once."

The silence hung uncomfortably and densely in the air. That was where she should take her leave now. Jack was positive the Sister was already on her way to complain to Sister Mary Francine. "I'll see you all again."

"Hey," Lina called for her again. "You're really leaving without your reward?"

"I didn't finish the game," Jack pointed. "I should have found you first."

Lina partly and silently agreed that. Had Jack was five seconds earlier, she wouldn't have been found by Sister James.

"You still found us."

In her hands was something wrapped in cloth and dirt. If Jack were to guess, they had dug it out from a garden inside the walls. Lina easily handed it over to her, tearing off the cloth.

A shiny cricket bat. Good quality wood. Barely any scratches that showed it had been behind glass before it was taken down.

"Now that's...really impressive for you lot to have."

"It's my dad's." That surprised Jack, making her fingers soften on the wood. "That's signed by Jasmin. His favorite player… He always wanted to teach me cricket."

"You sure-?"

"You've earned it. And you need it for those zombies."

"You do know I might break it, right?"

Lina just shrugged. "Dad would have probably clobbered those zombies out there. And...he'd want someone to put it to good use."

"...I'm honored. Thank you."

"Jack?" Again, the thirteen-year-old girl stopped her. "Don't die out there."

Jack smirked boldly. "Wouldn't dream of it. Saint Sandrine, watch on us all."

* * *

A/N: Heyo all, a quick thing I made and plan to hopefully make more down the line. I do have some ideas for side quests but felt like I shouldn't put in the main story because it might cut off from the rhythm. I do enjoy these little ideas and some, I have plans to integrate the consequences and endings of those side quests into the main story. I tend to like if a side quest has a continuous lasting effect to the main story because it seems connected. If that makes sense. So expect the children to make a comeback later.

That being said, I kinda didn't want the spotlight to be always on Jack. Crane has been and should be the protagonist but with Jack having to be the middleman and front for Crane, that's a bit hard for me to do that. Especially since Crane would get killed with his condition. I'm trying to keep that Crane is the main protagonist regardless as best as I can. But there are points that Jack needs to be up front so I do wanna apologize if it might seem like Jack's stealing the spotlight.

Still this intermission chapter was enjoyable because it showed a part of Jack I've been meaning to show. And I do hope intermissions like this show a lot more in characters and even Crane.

Anyway, I hope to get the next chp up soon and it might be a while longer to update cuz of IRL. But for now, look out for these intermissions and hope they keep ya enticed until the next chp.


	15. THIRTEEN: DOWNPOUR

**THIRTEEN: DOWNPOUR**

* * *

One, two, three and four switches up. And volia, let there be light.

The safe zone came to life. The fluorescent lights around him blinked a few times before brightening up the small room Crane was in. A backpack with standard stuff, a nice sleeping bag near the table and the whole place clear of any problems that made this place relatively safe.

"Alright, Jack. Safe zone's running now," he called over the comm.

" _That's impressive,_ " the ex-kickboxer droned in his ear. Whether she really meant it or joked at him was another thing he couldn't figure out on the spot. " _You didn't have any problems fondling with the switches?_ "

"I may be a zombie but I still know how to turn on a frigging power box." With a scoff, he shut the metal box close.

" _I meant no ill will of questioning your capabilities, Freakoid. You've clearly shown them to me in the last two days. I'm more impressive how well you're remembering the small things quickly._ "

Shit, did he give another slipup? He's gotta stop doing that. Come on, try to turn this around so she could get off his back. "So? It's amnesia, not a complete wipeout. Lots of people can remember the basics like it's no problem."

" _Weeell...you're not wrong on that. I still can't remember the route I used to take for groceries._ "

Oh. Right. "Yeah. You...you said you lost your memory, right?"

" _A couple of days worth. Maybe a week. Can't easily recall anything. So I know how difficult it can seem trying to remember the last thing you did._ "

So she knew from experience. Was it right of him to play the role of an amnesiac? It might be a double-edged sword if he tried to play his cards wrong. Jack might pick up something off in his words. Or she might feel sympathetic towards someone with so-called "memory loss".

"...Sorry. If I brought anything up-"

" _It's old news. Only time can tell when memories come back. I should know myself._ "

"Uh, right." Now, why did that sound weird to him? "Anyhow. You can give those two the OK."

" _Sure. Oh, before you leave. Mind spotting our emblem on the window? It's a Rav thing._ "

"Um…" An odd kind of request but it wasn't a request he didn't have to reject. It wasn't some life-threatening or lunatic offer. In fact, it was probably the simplest thing he could ever be asked for. To paint a symbol. He darted his eyes about. Luckily, right by a workshop table were two old paint cans. White for one. "Ok, sure."

It wasn't too difficult at all. With claws like his, it was easy to just clip the lid in one go - the liquid having dried it shut right into the can. There weren't any brushes around so all Crane had to resort with was...well, his claw.

"White raven, right?" he asked, starting with the straight stroke he recalled from memory. Right across a window panel.

" _Yup._ "

"I don't see the point-"

" _It's just our way of saying that's our turf. Good friends are welcomed, unwanted guests are not. Both the 'graaar' type and the thug type. Sure, no one here knows the Ravs yet but, hey. We can't be losing a place for safety._ "

"Fair enough... Done." At least, he hoped that was enough. He did his best to replicate the emblem as close as possible to what he said back at the basketball court. The beak looked a little off though. "What's taking you by the way? Don't see you anywhere." He peeked out through the filthy window. Didn't help that the sky was darkening. Not the night time yet, just more grey clouds.

" _What about you? You said it was going be a walk in the park and you just finished._ "

"I had...some extra problems." He expected just the normal lurkers. But apparently, the group of men he spotted earlier had split up into smaller packs - one heading to the inactive safe zone to claim it.

What they didn't expect was the dead zombies at the door of the safe zone. And when they followed Crane's carnage, they found him.

So the walls were riddled with bullet holes. And there was blood everywhere. He did his best to move out the corpses but hey, there was no safe zone that had air fresheners. And he wasn't a cleaner.

" _Nothing a talking, walking zombie can't handle. As for why it's taking a while: one, got held back at the orphanage and two, the boat was taken by some jackarses._ "

"Nothing an ex-kickboxer can't handle?" Now it was his turn to toss back the ball.

" _Not for the second, no. Easy picks for me. The first, well-_ "

"What? The survivors there don't like you on first impression?"

" _Hide 'n' seek with the orphans. Little buggers were real smart in their hiding spots that I couldn't find any of them for first ten, twenty minutes._ "

"You're real carefree. Should you even be playing games?"

" _They're children. They've already gotten enough discipline from the adults here. They don't need to hear from one more._ "

"You? Discipline? Don't sound right to me."

" _If you're asking for that strong office boss type, I'm not that kind of woman._ "

"Please. I've met one and I've regretted it ever since. Jokes aside, you...really shouldn't be all humble with everyone."

" _Oh? And why not?_ " she sang. " _Strengthening bonds can help people in a time of need._ "

"Hey, you said to me not to treat this like I'm back at Harran. Same should be said to you, this isn't the Outskirts either. Everyone isn't your next door neighbor."

" _Who really knows about their next door neighbor? I couldn't figure out mine at my old apartment for three years._ "

Ugggh, could this woman just be serious for once? "Look. All I'm saying is you can only get so far being a Good Samaritan. But...if you keep this up, you're only gonna get stabbed in the back."

The line went quiet. And again, another slipup.

But this time, Crane didn't bite his tongue back. She needed to hear that. While Jack had too many secrets under her thick skin and reminded him of Raiz a bit, she was too trustworthy. People could make her dance like a monkey before trying to chop off her head.

Why was he even trying to help her? So that she wouldn't make the same mistakes as him?

Maybe. There was no way for him to turn back time and redeem himself. Guess he wanted her not to have that feeling.

" _Another one of these flashes?_ " she asked. Her tone wasn't mocking or peppy.

"...Call it intuition."

" _Hm... I should have met you much earlier then. Would have saved me a lot of trouble. But that's a whole different story… Like I said before, not in my nature to abandon people._ "

"You can't save everyone."

" _No, I can't. I'm no hero,_ " she said honestly. " _But I gotta give something to these people, no matter how small. It's the same for you. You want to help runners and you're using the one thing they fear. Yourself._ "

"Stop reminding me-"

" _I'm not. What you are right now is also small but you are a force that could save lives. That's big._ "

"That's...kinda nice, coming from you."

" _That's what I mean. Small things to give back. Sometimes, people need just a bit of hope. A bit of courage. It goes a long way._ "

"Sometimes, it doesn't," he argued.

" _Maybe. We'll just have to see. I'm on my way now._ "

The call ended with a click and a bitter taste in his mouth. How on Earth was he going to convince her otherwise? She should be more careful of who her friend and enemy were.

Maybe he should let her get burned. A learning experience for her when it hit her hard.

No, he wouldn't let himself go if that were to happen on someone else. And something told him...she's been down his path before.

Crane could only hope she wouldn't regret her decision in the long run. Like he did.

But right now, he was about to regret his current decision.

" _Right…the UV lights._ "

Getting out quick without being roasted up by UV rays. He never would have imagined that the one thing that kept the monsters at bay would keep him out too. The sign of the blue fluorescent lights were signs of safety and now, they were deadly rays on him. Then again, he'd never dreamt he would be on the other side.

No pain, no gain. Except he'd surely die.

He thought carefully about his next move. " _Just run right out. Ignore the pain. You can do it. Run. Just. Run._ "

Crane prepared himself. Then deflated himself down and took a step back. Shook his hands a couple of times before he reached for the door handle.

He counted. He repeated in his head several times. Just run, just run, just run.

Inhale. Exhale.

" _Ok._ " Another ten seconds. " _Enough stalling!_ "

Crane threw open the door and bolted. Immediately, the UV lights hit as he bolted up and over the tall fences. He felt his skin burn and fizzle, the smell of his own flesh snaking to his heightened scents. With a loud hiss, he ducked away from the safe zone and took a minute outside to endure the pain. Let it run its course.

Finally, it was gone. And like before, like it was nothing, Crane took towards to the top of the apartments.

He'd need high ground to spot Jack. And make sure none of those prisoners would drop on her and surprise her. She was a capable fighter but there was a fine line between being careful and being an idiot. This place would eat anyone alive if they weren't careful.

So far, with his special see-through sight, there was no sign of the thugs. They and any other human must be heading for cover from the coming rain. Already, he could feel the first wet beats on his skin.

The infected didn't seem to mind the light blessing. The sound of water hitting tin cans and metal dumpsters did make them draw towards it - it was sending them around in circles.

There was one highlighted infected that caught Crane's attention. It was at the top of another apartment. Far off.

To be honest, he thought it was a survivor by the way it stood. It didn't slouch its chest back and walk sluggishly - all the tall tales of a zombie. It was straight as a tree, undisturbed by the other walkers around it. Ok, so it was one of them. He thought it was a Goon because it had something long in its rightie. But it was too thin in muscle mass.

Then it turned.

It turned right to him.

" _Shit!_ "

He ducked under the air-con machinery. That didn't happen, right? That thing...looked at him. It saw him ten yards away from him.

How did it know?

Crane glanced back and got the shivers down his infected spine. The eyes were still on him. Uncannily locked even behind so much distance between them. He crawled a bit to the left and it followed. He slithered to the right and it followed.

" _The fuck…_ " He had no words. Ok, he technically hasn't been saying words much as a zombie. But he was left speechless.

Even after a minute or two, this thing wouldn't get bored and move on. It was on his every move and he didn't like it.

What should he do? No zombie he knew could do anything like this. Maybe it was a Special. A new one Jack would be interested.

"Hey, Jack."

" _What's up?_ " she clicked back in. " _I see the museum in the distance. Be there in four, five tops-_ "

"I just saw something strange. Some...weird, lanky zombie."

" _Oh? Weirder than you?_ "

"Funny. A smart-ass."

" _You can't get mad at me. I have a zombie like you as my client-_ "

"J-Just stop talking for one second. I'm serious about this one. This thing's nothing like I've seen before. It's pacing...like a human."

" _Sounds like any typical type to me. All these Biters were humans once._ "

"Yeah but...this thing isn't acting feral. It's too calm."

" _Okaaay. Doesn't really warrant for any concern that I can see._ "

"Except...I think it saw me. Through walls. Shit. This thing's eyes are on me like a hawk."

" _What?_ "

"Yeah. It's damn freaky." He had slipped out one tracker from his pockets. "Think it's worth to tag it?" he asked reluctantly.

" _Freakoid, get out. Now._ "

"Wait, why?" The urgency in her voice was now grave. Screaming danger to him.

" _That's a Watcher! GET OUT_ _ **NOW!**_ "

Watcher?

Then came the whistling sound. It was immediate. Crane couldn't pinpoint the origin with his heightened hearing.

Then wood splinters burst next to his ear.

"SHIT!" He dropped back. It was nearly a graze. No, it was nearly right on his head. A M4 bullet!

For a split second, he thought a human gunner was nearby. One of the prisoners seeing a big threat on the rooftops. Or Rais' men. But there was no one.

Except, the Watcher, still staring at him.

That wasn't a rebar or a blunt weapon the thing carried. It sluggishly raised its choice of weapon high up, almost at the same level as one would with a firearm. And an assault rifle at that.

" _Since when do zombies use guns?!_ "

He couldn't stay. All the wailing was drawn to the gunshot. Not the only gunshot: multiple. That thing was already preparing another fire. It still 'remembered' how to aim. Whether it could reload, he didn't want to stay and find out.

A red dot danced across the tops. Oh, peachy. Laser scope sight! Crane couldn't risk using his tendrils and stay out in the open. He had to stay under cover over the rooftops. The rain had also picked up, as if orchestrating that his demise was coming.

A loud gunshot fired.

"Gah!" The force of the bullet wasn't one he could joke about, even as an infected. The shot nicked his shoulder but it pushed him off his footing. He tumbled off the edge, his claws racking at something to grab.

 _Thud!_

Only concrete stopped his fall. It wasn't the ground floor but the next door rooftop was enough to do a number on him. His vision blurred from the bump on his head. He needed a minute. Please-

The plead went unheard. Because right coming to his reemerging sight was a hideous thing.

At first fuzzy glance, the creature looked like a Volatile, straight and firm. Like the Mother. But there was a lack of traits this one didn't have. It didn't have the split-jaw mandibles or the bone spikes from the side of its abdomen. It partly had some shreds of its former uniform before the poor sob turned undead - it even had standard military pouches and the ripped, tattered camouflage sheet over its back like an evil villain's cloak. Crane was right on one thing: that rifle was military standard. This country's army's choice of weapon for their best. In fact, it wasn't too hard to figure out what the silhouette of the past man was.

What stood out the most was the eyes. Its eyelids had rotted off, showing the golden, unclear orbs as big as they could be. Black-ringed pupils locked hauntingly at him. It was almost as if a monstrous owl was observing him, regardless of where he tried to hide.

The barrel drifted to Crane's throat. He could feel the hot metal drape.

" _W-Wait!_ " He was one of them!

Crane held that sentence back in. He was being an idiot, trying to plead with an infected. But it made him realize how grim his reality was. He was the only one turned and the only one who came back. And regardless of how easy survivors saw him as one of them, the Watcher knew otherwise.

Not knew. The norm of the infected didn't know. They couldn't think. They couldn't control their hunger. The infection commanded them to bite, to spread, to destroy. And the Watcher was going by pure instinct, following the virus obediently. But it didn't want competition. It saw Crane as a threat, it didn't want him sharing its hunting grounds.

It lifted the rifle up. Point blank to his head.

The Watcher wanted him dead.

Crane was never one of them. He was unwanted. In a sea of zombies he no longer belonged.

He wasn't one of them anymore.

 _Pif! Pif!_

The Watcher swatted something on his neck - his free palm. And Crane saw it between its pale fingers.

Two darts.

"Gragh!" came the warcry. And the Watcher was gone by a shove, down into the pitch dark below.

Jack was in its spot instead.

" _Jack-_ "

"What are you waiting for?! RUN!"

He galloped back up, after the ex-kickboxer who was now four rooftops away from him. " _You got rid of that thing!_ "

"Two tranq darts is not gonna stop a Watcher!" Jack hollered. " _ **Go!**_ "

Another gunshot. Whistling somewhere above their heads. The two dropped down from quite a high distance, right on top of a wooden platform roof. It stayed firm under Jack's weight but broke under Crane's. Right inside the house below.

"Keep going!" Jack shook off the sores from her fall. There couldn't be any second wasted. "We can't stop-"

"Wait!" Crane glanced back through thick walls. The Watcher was now at a high top but was still quite far away. It didn't come after them. " _It's not following._ "

"Oh. Well. Let's not give it a chance then. Watchers can still shoot our heads like bloody pumpkins from the other side of the city, mate!"

" _What the hell is that thing?_ " he demanded in the small brief of respite they have. " _Why can it use a rifle?!_ "

"Good questions that I don't have any answer to. And we'll never learn the longer we stay out here!"

" _It's not nighttime yet. But we need to find a safe zone for you-"_

Jack was already shaking her head in disagreement. "No, no. A safe zone with a Watcher on it becomes a prison cell. That thing needs to be off us now. It's not a goldfish with a 5-minute memory. Worse is when it howls."

" _Why?_ "

As if Crane was just asking for fate to turn a bad turn for the worse, a loud wail resounded. It was different from a normal Volatile. It was louder than a Demolisher. But it was clear to Crane that thing was made heard. Like a banshee announcing someone's upcoming death.

And on queue, the city cried out with it.

Crane had heard these noises before. So has Jack. Any loud sound would attract the dark seeping creatures from underground. Ready to dig their claws into warm flesh.

"That's why. It calls reinforcements."

" _Shit._ "

"You're one of them, right?! Can't you tell them to bugger off?!"

Crane glared at her with wide golden eyes. " _Are you kidding me?! They see me as an outcast!_ "

"Oh, bloody - of course. They have a hierarchy." And she was off. "Move! We need to get to the river!"

They were back out in the open. The rain wouldn't be enough to cloak them from the three swarming entities climbing towards them from the manholes they burst out. Another four small fries added to the numbers.

Another gunshot rained upon them. A miss. But this time, it was closer to Crane's right.

" _How accurate is this thing?!_ "

"Keep going!" Jack shouted, glancing back.

It was only a split second. She didn't have eyes at the back of her head to see a Volatile climbing up the antenna nearby, readying a leap-

" _Oh no, you don't!_ "

The tendrils fired and lassoed around the bloke's torso. With a hard swing and a spin on a heel, Crane chucked the violent beast right back at their persecutors. The sounds of bodies contact and irritated growls were drowned down by the storm.

The duo speedily parkoured on - Crane kept his speed down, however. He could easily outrun Jack but no way in his conscious was he gonna let her be bait. And who knew if another Volatile would try to get the jump on her again.

Right now, Jack was also his guide. She seemed to know where to go and what to do under these terrifying conditions. So up they climbed and slid down a long, steep, zinc-sheeted covering.

" _Shit! Stop! Stop! Stop!_ " Crane wailed frantically. It was no go - his claws couldn't get a good grip on wet metal sliding. All he could do was let the ride take over and watch Jack take a leap off the roof's edge. Over a twenty-feet gap and into the balcony of a two-deck home.

"Jump!"

Now or never! He overshot. A powerful Hunter with strong leg muscle would be able to fling himself right at the roof instead of the platform. Like a slingshot.

" _Shit!_ " The old awning broke beneath his feet. And down he dropped.

"Got you!" Jack fired her hand right onto his just in the nick of time. But the sudden shift in weight nearly took her over the edge with him that she had quickly latched herself to the balcony railing.

" _Thanks!_ "

"Pull up! You're too heavy!"

Stop calling him fat! But Crane did as he was told. The two were back up, climbing and darting across the rooftops.

"River's just below!" Jack hollered. "Slide down the zipline!"

A hop and skip onto the line. Crane could see another platform on the other side of the raging channel. How far were they going to go before this thing got tired of them-

"Jump down!" And Jack suddenly unhooked herself off.

" _Wait - Ah, shit!_ " A change in a detour for whatever reason but he didn't question her.

Down they went into the rushing river.

 _Splosh! Splosh!_

The laser dot ran across the water's surface. The Watcher was still seeking, still searching.

Nothing.

It waited.

Still nothing that its large, hollow eyes could find.

The assault rifle drooped down. It had lost both its rival and its new prey. Now with its interest lost, the Watcher stayed on its perch just as it did before it picked up on Crane. Waiting. For another to fall under its radar.

"Gah!" Twenty feet away in the river, Jack popped up her head, spitting out swallowed water. The one good way she knew of getting out of a Watcher's sight was going in cold water.

Well, she had never taken a gamble to see if it'd work. Either the coldness hid her body heat or the rush would take her away too fast for the Watcher to point and aim at her head. Regardless, it was one means of escape from all sorts of zombies.

"Ahahahaha!" Jack chortled, pointlessly wiping the water off her face. With wet gloves. In the rain. "Oh…that was riveting. Could have gone more gracefully, eh, mate?"

She got no reply.

"Freakoid?" she called, sharply glancing around. Freakoid hadn't surfaced out.

Wait. She never did get a confirmation before about him able to swim. Could Hunters even _swim?!_

"Freakoid!"

"Gack! Koff!" A head came up. And she almost thought it was a new type that inclined her to raise her weapon. Or a crocodile. Crocodiles were nasty little critters.

She plopped the weapon down under the surface. "Oh, don't scare me like that, mate."

" _Garh, I got water in my ear._ "

"That should be the least of your worry. We need to get out of this river. And this rain." Jack was already on her way to a little debris-made bank at the edge. Crane followed. It was just as easy to do the stroke in this new body as in his old body.

" _Oh. C'mon,_ " Crane started. " _This isn't the worst storm I've been in-_ "

 ** _KA-BOOOOOM-KAAAK!_**

" _SHIT!_ " The Wild Dog leaped, hands over her head. She nearly lost her footing, as jittery as a scared chihuahua.

The sky screamed. It roared angrily, demanding repentance to those below it. Its wrath was made clear - that even the mindless, the calculated, the sane and the primal couldn't stand against nature.

"Oh...wow!" Jack uttered. That came out of nowhere. Yes, the lights in the district were out in a blink of an eye. But, oooh, that was terrifying. "That really scared me shitless… Huh, seems like it did the same for the zombies." She couldn't spy any sign of the golden eyes in the distance. No Watcher all the way high. "Hahaha-heh…"

Jack wheeled back. And she couldn't find the pair of golden eyes behind her. Her smile cracked down.

"Freakoid?"

He wasn't there. Not in the waters. Not behind her. Nowhere.

But she spotted him running along the river's inner edge at the corner of her eye.

"H-Hey! Freakoid!" she hollered under the storm. Jack gave sprint. "Freakoid! Shit, who would have thunk it that he'd be spooked by lighting! _**Freakoid!**_ "

Her calls were drowned by the thundering. Even with Crane's excellent hearing, he couldn't hear her.

He was too afraid.

The second voice was still at the back of his mind. When the sky turned white and roared, it wanted to flee. Instinct overrode his reasoning and took over. He needed to get out of the rain, it told him. _They had to get out!_

It was coming. Whatever it was, it was coming to get him. To kill _them!_

Wait! Stop! Where was he supposed to go? A part of his rational mind was still trying to grab for the reins and stop the mad horse from crashing somewhere. He had nowhere to go.

His body wouldn't obey him. It was too terrified to stop.

No, he had somewhere to go.

 _I need to go back! I need to go back to the Tower-!_

" _No one is at the Tower anymore._ "

"Gaaah!" Crane shrieked. Standing in his way, on the banks of the river was a face he was sure he had killed. The piercing bloodshot eyes staring through the eyeholes of that mask.

" _No one is waiting for you, Crane,_ " spat the Mother.

 _Run! Run!_ screamed his other side.

He sprinted past her. He couldn't stop. But her presence was still behind him, lurking close like a ghost.

" _You can't run forever._ " And suddenly, she was back in front of him. " _You can't save anyone._ "

"Shut up! I killed you! You're dead!"

" _How delusional you are!_ " her voice boomed, scraping at the bony sides of his skull. " _Like before. And even now. Do you think everything will all end with a simple solution?_ "

" _ **SHUT UP!**_ " he roared, slashing at nothing.

His sudden attack sent his body flying, like a blind jaguar pouncing. He felt the ground hit him at his fumbling but fear rallied him back up.

" _You can never get rid of me._ "

Yes! Yes, he could! He just needed to get away! Underground was the safest-

A voice pried into his ears, outside his skull. Something called out to him but it was muffled by the whispers inside his head.

Then he felt something grab his arm.

He lashed out a talon at whatever it was and dug his sharp nails into something soft. There was a hiss but he didn't care. He didn't listen. He had to stay alive-

" _ **Freakoid!**_ "

Crane snapped out of it. All the dark whispers were quietened down by the heavy-accented holler. It was quiet inside his head - with only the raindrops around him.

He blinked a couple of times. He found himself at the entrance of a large broken pipe. And right in front of him was Jack stopping him from going further into the channel, out of breath and nearly out of her wits.

"Are you with me?" she asked between breaths.

There was concern in her tone. Why, he wondered. Why was she worried about him-

No.

Why should she worry about a thing like him? Why did she come after him? Seriously, who in their right mind would chase after a zombie?

She tried again. "Hey. You're ok?"

Ok?

Was he ok?

His eyes darted about until they stopped on his grip. It was on Jack's arm.

There was blood. Her blood.

He drew out blood so tightly with his talons. He had nearly tried to attack her without realizing it.

Crane retrieved his hand. No, claw.

He wasn't human.

He was a quivering animal inside a pipe.

Crane could never become human. This disguise wouldn't help. It was just made-pretend.

He was going through another lie when there was no hiding from everything.

"C'mon." She reached her hand out to him. "Lighting's nothing to be afraid of."

Crane stared down at the hand - that reassuring, human gesture. No, that was just an illusion to him. Another make-pretend. That shouldn't even be given to an infected.

"I can't… I can't do this…"

"Of course, you can. Storm will pass just like any other storm would-"

"I don't mean that!" Crane slapped the hand away from him. That shocked the brunette but he didn't care. He was being serious. "...Stop pretending like I'm...ok."

Just leave him alone. Leave him outside like all the rest. It was a broken record in his head but it was the truth - he was gone and there was nothing for him to return to, neither on the survivors' side or on the infected's.

Jack was only making the impossible worst. By toying around and pretending he was a human. Having a human conversation, saving him like a human would for another, making him dress up so that he could barely pass as one. Yes, she was ordered to stay with him. But there was a limit how far a person should treat another long gone.

Just stop staying for him…

But she wouldn't budge from her spot. Instead, she waited.

"...Look at me… I'm a monster. A-And I still was! I...I've hurt people. I've probably killed more. I could have killed you just now." Her face didn't twitch at the idea she nearly died. So Crane pushed again. "...You can't dress that up and pretend like it's nothing."

Nothing from Jack and with the silence straining against Crane, all he could do was tear out the revolting feeling he had kept inside.

"I don't get why I'm back. I shouldn't be back at all! You shouldn't even stay with a piece of shit like me! Nobody should for all the things I've done! I could have saved them! All of them! But _I let them die!_ "

Crane breathed heavily after his outburst. Why wasn't he better? It still didn't quench down that painful guilt inside. It was burning, ripping him up. It was something he had kept shut inside under lock and key - Crane rarely let himself explode.

Now, all the bottles he kept away were breaking, cracking into pieces.

"I can't hide this…"

The guilt. The pain. The Crane that ruined everything. The fake Hero people saw him.

"...It's always routine."

Crane sighed. Not another one of her ramblings. "What are you talking about-"

"The first step you do before you jump into the ring...is to admit you're powerless."

There was something in the air that Crane almost overlooked on Jack. It was that old look he had seen before, only it had a sense of a vet thrown into war.

Correction. A fighter putting herself many times into the fighting ring.

"Your opponent is the same. Both of you are powerless. Not better. And when the two of you jump right in the ring...that's when you figure what to do. What you need to do," Jack explained. "You'll get wins. And losses too. And you can't stop. Even when you hit rock bottom."

The sincerity in her strengthened every word in her. It made Crane wonder - how tiny were her secrets that she let them slipped between the lines. He almost wanted to scoff, she couldn't compare her sports career to his ordeals in Harran.

"There's really only one way you can do when you go back into the ring," Jack explained softly. Wisely. "That's pretty much up."

Crane hunched his eyebrows together. Up? There was nothing for him to go up. He was a monster. A menace. A burden. Stop joking with him, Jack!

But he kept those five words in. Jack had taken down her shades. And this was the first real time he fully saw her eyes. The hazel eyes told everything - the whole world behind the mask. Jack was an ex-kickboxer and she was a woman thrown in this outbreak like him. She was like any survivors in this city, living and surviving.

There was a story he didn't know but the expression she had told him...she had seen a man like him crack down and fall to his knees. Or maybe it was herself who had fallen.

She had given up before. And yet, she kept going.

But she never surrendered.

Well, she was a boxer, as she said. Surrender probably wasn't in an athlete's vocabulary. They never really quit after a loss. They got back up. And he knew a bit from his high school days in the run-and-track field.

"That's all you can do. Same said in this fucked-up place. You can only go up. Or let this infection beat you."

"Hah!" Crane scoffed. He found this funny. All of it. "So what? I become like that maniac crimelord? Or, or that crazy-ass Volatile and her cult?! Oh! Better! How about those cooperate _**fucksheads**_?!"

 _KLANK!_

His distorted voice had raised the volume to the point it nearly made him inhuman. He quickly stopped himself, before his other side would try to take it out on Jack. Driving all the anger down his claw fisting metal in one strike. Jack only stared at him with much-deepened confusion and caution on her face.

It didn't matter to him if she didn't understand what he was saying. God, why was he saying anything to begin with? Why was he spilling it all out so easily?

Perhaps because he was down in the gutter. Perhaps he had finally found himself so far gone, there wasn't a point in keeping the secrets and the lies.

"I let people die… I made them suffer...because I was following orders. I...I had always been a good little dog...following orders…"

The final blow to him. The pan that whacked him right out of his denial and down the rest of the five stages of grief. He couldn't hide from it any longer. God finally gave him what he deserved. A liar and a crook could only get retribution. Hell had already opened its gates on him but he had now stepped through.

"No… I deserved this…" And Crane set his face into his palms. "For being a monster…"

The storm brew on. And finally, the shadow on him shifted. Jack had finally decided to leave him-

"...Then you should start repenting."

Crane slowly, briefly, raised his head. Jack hadn't gotten up and left. Instead, she made herself comfortable at the end of the pipe. Nothing of a wise-crack joke out of the stone-cold woman he had beside him. She meant every word.

Repent. Maybe he should. But the way Jack said didn't sound like he should off himself. Her voice was spiteful again - so soft and low it was well-hidden but sharp enough to cut the air - he would be seen as a coward if he were to take the easy way out.

"...I don't know these people, Freakoid. I can't read your brain. And I don't know what you've been through. But I know this much," she began. "If you want things to change, if you want to have a clear conscious, then you gotta carry that weight all over again. Not just for yourself, but for those from your past. The ones who _mattered_. And you gotta be yourself to do that."

Again. Just like the first time.

Jack had a good way of talking. It nipped at the heart. It moved the courage. It sparked the passion.

Small things to give back. And nothing asked back.

"That's how you'll get back up. _You_ owe them that much."

Up. It didn't literally mean that he'd rise up to the top and become the very enemy he swore to stop. It meant to get up on his feet and try again.

Could he really get back up again? Just by being himself again? He wasn't sure if he could tempt fate and turn it around.

 _Be myself..._

"...What if I don't like myself?" he confessed.

Jack had no answer. Not straight away. "...Then make a new you." Another surprise from her. "You have that choice. Just don't leave behind those people you couldn't save."

He absorbed everything he listened. He contemplated. He recalled Jack's words - that he reminded her of her old self. With a spiteful tone that read she hated it.

The old Jack.

And right before him was the new Jack.

Don't leave behind those people you couldn't save… It sounded ridiculous. Jade and Rahim were gone. Many good people were gone. They weren't coming back.

But...if Crane stopped now...who would carry them?

That was unfair to them.

"C'mon." Again, she reached her hand out. Still persistent as always. Was it Crane's destiny to meet whackjobs in this country? "Let's get out of the rain."

"...Seriously." He pushed it away again, this time not with as much force as the first. "You're nuts to be sticking with me."

She chuckled softly, this time no offense to the second decline. "I told you already. Not in my nature to abandon people."

"What?" Crane laughed. "And I count?"

"Yeah. You've been looking like you needed someone for a very long time."

Crane let the words sink in. He couldn't deny that but he didn't admit it. More like he was all too stunned at how true and painful those words bit.

Jack said nothing. She wore her sports shades back, stood up and walked a few paces away from the giant pipe. The hand offering had stopped. She was giving him his space but she wasn't planning on leaving.

She waited. And she wasn't going anywhere. Even if it was the middle of the night. In the pouring, pitch-black rain.

Finally, Crane crawled out from the metal cylinder.

"Hey," he called out verbally. A little jump in the bold, pigheaded fighter from his spooky, disgruntled voice but she turned around with an expressionless face. " _...Sorry. About earlier._ "

"For what?" she asked.

Geezus, did she really have to make him say it? But her puzzlement was genuinely modest.

" _You...reminded me of someone I hated. That...maniac crimelord._ "

"Ah…" Yup, he offended her. Jack may be quiet and peaceful, and not going off like a firecracker, but there was a tint shown in her body gestures.

" _About what you said. That you profit from all this._ "

She nodded. "...If it's any consolation, a lot people hate me," Jack admitted.

" _Heh. Maybe. But he was a psycho. You're not. I'd pick you over that fucker any day._ "

She looked rather impressed to hear that, genuinely pleased and honored at his statement. "That's the nicest thing anyone had said to me."

" _Probably the last thing I'm gonna say… Thanks, Jack... I mean it._ "

She smirked. "That's what partners are for."

Partners.

It was an odd word he had never really taken in. He had freelanced a few jobs before GRE, and freelanced for that company. But always, he had done his missions soloing. It wasn't how it worked - having a partner could be a liability in his line of work. Men like him had to learn to be sturdy and strong on their own, even learn to pull out a bullet and do self-surgery with a hot-heated needle.

His only fault, as his GRE command had told him, was that he was too soft at times.

Then came a beeping sound.

Jack lifted up her PACT. The countdown had just begun.

"Nighttime's coming," she breathed tiredly. "How are you holding up?"

Crane found it surprising once she asked that question. He couldn't tell if it was still night or day, with how dark and thick the rains were. The lighting had freaked his other side right off that it took over his reins but...he didn't feel it.

There was no unhinging. He wasn't slipping again. He was still grounded, unlike yesterday's late noon after he departed ways with Jack.

Crane was anchored down. This time. And it felt rejuvenating. Light on his conscious.

" _Good… Better than before._ "

"That's good… Alright. Enough dilly-dallying. Let's head for shelter, shall we?" Jack asked, gesturing him to take the lead. "This storm's a no go to get to Harran anyway - shit!"

There was a little shriek of the volume pitch, even in Crane's ear. He groaned, almost inclined to pull the earpiece out. Jack had already done hers but kept the comm piece in the air before sitting it back in.

" _That smarts,_ " he murmured.

"Guess the storm did a number even on the comms. Yeah? Hello?" she hollered, picking up a tiny voice through the static. "Siv? Siv, slow down. I can barely hear you."

And finally, the voice stirred through the crackles.

" _Bzzt - ck! Jack! We've got a problem!_ "

* * *

A/N: Heyo all. Another chp up and mostly on Crane. And also another new type: the Watcher. I...honestly will say, 1, I am intrigued that there hasn't been any firearmed zombies, and actually terrified if that was put in a game, which luckily hasn't so far. 2. This type is probably a bit too OP and also unrealistic, a zombie using a gun although we do have DL types that use weapons and I have written from the start with Bones and Jack deducting zombies "remembering" things for them to be capable in actions. And 3, I'm gonna try to balance this type out. I'd like to have a Watcher be a rare type and on the difficulty scale, be below a Hunter. Moreover I might go over the design again and change it up in this chp.

Honestly though, this chapter was real enjoyable to work on. A sight in Crane's moral working and how he's coping. I actually had planned to push this part later but I thought would be best for Crane to have a point that he has to jump back to being himself. Like for real, himself. I have plans that he can't always rely on Jack and moreover, Jack will get in situations where Crane will have to help her. As of now, Jack's his only pillar of support (as crazy as she is) but he will need to be on his feet like before. More so with the situation in Scanderoon both similar to Harran and escalating. So I really do hope you enjoy this and I think from here on out, Crane's out of his whole runt. Crane's fully back.

PS. I've not fully edited this chp, not on the grammars. I'm kinda unsure if Crane's parts were good enough on his whole zombified character development so I might fix them up tmr to really push it on his character. Still hopefully, it's there. This chp was real fun on writing Crane and how he's dealing with his whole guilt from the previous games. Cuz I'm pretty sure that at this point, and as a zombie, he's gonna break (again I suppose).

And yes, I left it at a cliffhanger. Ain't I a stinker? ;)


	16. FOURTEEN: PREDICTION

**FOURTEEN: PREDICTION**

* * *

"What happened?"

" _Don't you see it? Look around you!_ " the young girl's voice hollered over the feedback. " _It's lights out! This storm hit the whole city's power grid!_ "

The gravity of the situation swiftly hit the two in the channel. They scanned at the surrounding buildings - the lampstreets and whatever faint little glow of a lightbulb behind windows weren't coming back to life. It was pitch black, nearly impossible for Jack to see without her torchlight but greatly possible for Crane to detect the illuminated bodies. Both infected and non-infected were brighter than before, like fireflies.

"The whole-? I thought it was this district!" Jack uttered.

" _No! Everything's gone dark! Noah thinks this is a geomagnetic storm!_ "

"Are you and everyone ok?"

" _Y-Yeah! We got backup generators for this kind of thing. But Jack...it's the entire city! No one is safe!_ "

" _No power, no UV lights, no safe zones,_ " Crane whispered, catching Jack's realization at his words. The danger was much worse than she, they, had anticipated.

"Open season for Volatiles… Great."

" _Jack! You're dead if you stay out there! You need to come back!_ "

"How long does a geomagnetic storm last?"

" _What-_ "

"How long, Siv!" Jack hollered urgently.

" _I-I dunno! Noah says maybe a day or two. The generators won't last that long! But we can hold off till daylight._ "

" _It doesn't matter if you go back,_ " Crane pointed. " _Nobody is gonna last the first night._ "

"Siv, is there any way to get the power back on?" Jack persuaded.

" _He said it'd only come back on its own,_ " Siv explained. " _...But-_ "

Hesitation. And there was a bit trailed right from it. A bit of hope Jack was willing to latch on with her teeth. "Give me anything, Siv. It could be our only option."

" _The hydrodam. It's the city's second main power source. It got shut down a few days ago. N-Noah says if we can use it, we can light the city up again!_ "

"Then that's what we'll do-"

" _Jack, that place is swarming with those things! No one has been able to get into the dam. A-And we don't even know how to get it back on!_ "

"There's no one to switch it back on?" Jack asked gravely.

" _I dunno hydrodam engineering! I dunno how it works!_ "

"Neither do I," she added, with a tiny slice of sarcasm. "Do you guys know anyone? Anyone who works there?"

" _No! And even if we did, no one will go_ _there. Not until it's safe!_ "

An impossible situation - the dangerous feeling of dread was gripping tight on Jack. She had to keep calm, keep grounded. Because if she were to lose it, Siv would surely fall too.

"Can you find anyone-?"

" _How can we find an engineer if the whole city is in total darkness?!_ " Siv hollered at the obviousness.

There wasn't a remedy to the problem. The only solution everyone could think of, even Jack herself, would be to hold off the night while the rest of Scanderoon was eaten up in pitch blackness - prevail for as long as possible with whatever they have on them.

But for how long-

" _I can do it_."

Jack had been pacing with clouded thoughts until she heard that sentence snake into her head. She stopped dead in her tracks and nearly spun around too fast on her heels. Wide eyes behind her shades.

" _I think I know how to turn it on,_ " Crane persisted.

Jack pulled out her comm from her ear, ignoring the girl's hollering of her name. Her face said it all - she couldn't comprehend the worriedly confident tone in Freakoid's thought speech.

But Crane didn't back down.

"What - Who -" Jack was almost lost with words.

Was it that hard to believe him?

He could do it.

Ok, he didn't really have an engineering degree. He didn't really know the detailed tech side of things. But some knowledge on the basic was enough. Crane had never done anything like this but it was standard to know a thing or two in his previous line of work.

"I have so many questions but I'll start with this one," Jack started, swinging back to full force seriousness. "Can you really turn it back on?"

" _It's a hydrodam. We just need to get the turbines moving and they'll do the rest._ " Again, no budging from her. " _That kid, she said the dam's your only chance of turning this city's power back on. That's all we've got to lose._ "

Jack digested that fact, that probed her to point another. "She also said the place's swarming with zombies."

" _Nothing's ever easy,_ " Crane stated. " _...I can do it. Trust me._ "

"...Ok...ok." She was convinced, and just before she was ready to bolt, she brought back her comms. "Siv. The shy guy I told you before? He knows how to turn on the dam on."

" _He does?!_ "

A ray of hope, one Jack didn't want the young runner not to lap onto it so quickly like pure water. "Tell Mahir to double up the Junction, keep the generators going for as long as you can… Stay on the radio for me if we need other options."

" _O-Ok. Ok. Careful out there, Jack._ "

" _You sure that was wise telling her that?_ " Crane asked as she fished away her comms - with a slight irritation in his thought-tone. " _Weren't you saying people needed a bit of hope?_ "

"Of course. But not in the middle of dire danger." No more the playfulness coming from Mad Jack. "A little wish in times like this can make desperate men go blind for a second."

" _That's...truthfully harsh._ " He never expected such a dark reaction from the loony woman.

"It's being realistic," she said straightforwardly. Not a single break in her stern face. "Same goes for no hope."

* * *

On foot, the dark streets of Scanderoon were dens of nightmares jumping onto poor souls forced out of their homes with the UV lights off. On the roofs, the more dangerous Votalies, and runners were eager to feast on the ones on swift wings of parkour. Seconds were counting and more people were dying. The only one thing anyone could do in the dead of night was barred up their homes and hope that morning would come soon.

The river was but one and only safe means of transportation.

Jack had led Crane to where she had parked the boat, Serendipity, and she had already speeded it down the stoned canal before Freakoid dropped into the front deck. The only source of light Jack had was the small boat's headlight to shine the way across murky, raging water. Everything else was hard to see, in the darkness and the rain.

"I can't see a damn thing," Jack cursed, hoping she wouldn't crash into a wall or something.

Crane, however, could see everything. A street with someone screaming for help. A house with a family cuddled together. There were one, two things he saw that made him ache to get out of the canal - the second voice whispering softly him to join 'their' brethren while his morals telling him to go save a person. He had tightened his claws on the side rims just to stop himself.

Having zombie vision sucked, watching the carnage unfold around him and tear deep into his guilt. But he had to stay.

" _Go left!_ " he hollered. Right now, he was Jack's eyes. He could see his surroundings, the buildings, everything better than a human. And the end of the large river was at the black horizon. " _Dam's up ahead._ "

The fighter did as she was told - the blind being led by the infected. "Exactly what are we looking for when we get there?" she hollered.

" _If the dam isn't that badly damaged, we just need the control room. Get the gates open and water going again._ "

"Huh, sounds simple," she sang.

Crane held back a groan. " _Sure. Let's go with that. Hard right. I see a dock area._ "

"And a looot of friends." Jack didn't need Freakoid's eyesight to notice the many pairs of blood-red eyes. A pack of sharks at night swarming to the water's edge, drawn by the loud engine.

"I'll take care of them. You stay on the boat."

"Ha!" she chided, steering the boat closer to the banks. "Oh, bloody hell, no. You're not taking all the work from me."

" _Suit yourself._ "

The boat hadn't even touched the dock - anchor tossed around a tie down for better security - and already the duo leaped out with weapon and claws ready. The Night Hunter was swift, five, ten bodies down and halfway across the route to the dam.

There was not a single light except the moon. Jack had to brighten the way with her flashlight as she whacked one, two, three zombies down and tried to catch up.

The front of the dam had the recent reminiscence of civilization. There had been people trying to seize the dam but that was indeed a failed attempt from the sight of the evidence. The UV lights, barbed wires, and barricades were ready but the corpses of those fallen dragged themselves up onto their feet and wandered sluggishly to the intruders.

 _KHUD!_

Off flew the head of a worker, cleaned right off its neck by Jack's pitch of her weapon. She kept to the pace, taking a few jumps on heads and away from gripping arms. Freakoid was damn fast, she'd give him that.

But she wasn't gonna be outclassed.

" _Perfect! We got company inside._ "

"Sounds like a party," Jack chuckled, tightening her grip as she joined him closer to the dam's doors. "Shouldn't be that hard to kick them out for excessive drinking and loud music."

" _They're Hives._ "

"Oh." She shrugged her shoulders. "Well. Better be fast on your toes."

" _Plan on it._ "

 _THUD!_ The doors burst open by Crane's shove. Inside was far dangerous than outside. The dam was a nest. Blood-red eyed infected runners galloped towards them with screams out of their blood-stained mouths. Their peace was disturbed.

Kill the intruders.

" _Stay behind me!_ " At least, he could use his body as Jack's meat shield. " _Get some camouflage if you have to-_ "

Jack was already gone. A sprint forward and she sliced off a runner's head. She really didn't know how to listen, he thought but Crane followed grudgingly.

"Where's the control room?" she hollered after another two slices of limbs.

" _There! Up the stairs._ "

Their path to their destination wasn't an easy one. Infected blocked the way up - that didn't mean for the duo, they were going to make it easy for them.

The first two, hacked down easily with two swift swings of Jack's blade. Crane vaulted rapidly across the walls in just three mighty steps and flew himself over the topmost level of the stairs.

His tendrils fired, snaking viciously around the necks of two walkers. With his own flying momentum, he hurled them right off the stairs and their skulls cracked open on impact. Crane strode his impact against a machine and darted back to the stairs like a yo-yo, a kick to a third zombie.

The last one was still on the stairs, obstructing the door.

 _Shnk!_ The blade pitched right into its face before Crane could even do anything to him.

He wheeled back, amazed at how good that throw was but quickly dismissed that feeling away because it had to be ruined by that schmuck look on Jack's face. Real competitive.

Crane was the first to rush into the control room. Retrieving her weapon back, Jack slammed the door shut behind them to keep the mindless riff-raffs out while the Hunter hurried to the dashboard. An interesting sight, she admitted to herself. No one would believe her if she said "an infected got the dam working again". But it was happening right in front of her. Immediately, Crane scanned about the buttons, knobs, and dials until he spotted the control gate valve.

Please be just a simple thing, he pleaded to himself. No hiccups. And he turned it on.

Nothing seemed to tell him things were working. Then the monitor said something, gates opening, and the loud howls within metal came out like trumpets of a chorus.

"YES!" he roared, almost inclined to do a fist pump. " _It's working-_ "

The monitor flashed red.

" _Oh. No, no, no!_ "

"What? What happened?"

" _It's the generator. Something's jamming it,_ " Crane read off the monitor. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. " _We gotta get those rotors moving before they break down._ "

"I think I know what's the problem. And it's a lot bigger than we think."

" _Bigger than the entire power grid going off by a geomagnetic storm?_ " he uttered. " _We just need to get that generator unjammed. Probably deal some Hives along the way. Saw about three nearby._ "

"And you didn't see the most obvious one?" she asked with a hunched eyebrow behind the shades.

" _What obvious one?_ "

Jack pointed at something beyond the room's windows, tempting Crane to leave the control panel and peer through. Whatever Jack saw was almost cloaked by the machinery and darkness. Only her flashlight she deliberately shone our spotlighted the foreign entity in the middle of the stage below them.

His yellow eyes widened at the sight below.

It stood out like a giant sore thumb. It was nothing he had ever seen before. Its very presence screamed a welcoming of danger, a rebirth preparing for the collapsing world. It was a Hive like any other, something ready to unleash its primitive rage and bloodlust.

He had mistaken it as a normal Hive before they reached the control panel. It looked normal to him, it made him think it was just close by.

The size was deceiving. This huge hive took almost the circumstance of the mechanical platform. He estimated it to be about more than ten feet. Demolisher-sized.

A big problem. Definitely a **_BIG_ **problem!

" _What the fuck is that thing…_ "

"A big menace if we don't kill it before it stops developing." Jack had seen this before. It was so straight and simple for her to explain what it was. "Worse, isn't it in a very convenient place?"

Right under the mass, Crane could spot the struggling, jagging motion of something metal. Rotor blades, trying to move together with the gushing water down in the giant pipes below.

" _The generator… Of course._ "

"GAARGH!"

The familiar cries of one monster type were very close by. He found them in the darkness, down in the generator area. They were wailing at him to back off, stay away. This place was their terrority, not his. And the human too was theirs to feast upon.

No. It wasn't the place they wanted him to leave.

" _The Volatiles are protecting it?_ "

"Looks that way. Is this your first time facing these things? If not, how well were you at killing them?" Jack chided out the question.

A question that would only get an answer saying along the lines, "are you fucking insane?". But Crane didn't give that. " _Uh...a few. And barely at the skin of my teeth._ "

"Then here's hoping your new body can take down a lot of those guys. They get a little bit feisty when people get too close to a Hive like that."

" _Feisty how?_ "

His answer came ramming its head right at the control room's windows.

 _CRACK!_

"Shit!" It scared the bejesus out of Crane. One of the Volatiles had hurled up and smashed into the glass. A tempered glass window! The second one was already in the air.

 _CRASH!_

"Gah!" Jack yelped, her body thrown down by the ugly fucker. Quick thinking saved her from an inch of having the jagged mandibles right on her neck, the hilt of her blade pushing the beast back as much as she could.

" _Get off her!_ " Crane demanded with tendrils and claws roped around the Volatile. He hurled it off Jack, watching the thing snarl and lash at her. Despite how close of strength he could compare himself to a Volatile, this thing could still unhinge itself right out of his grasp. Crane didn't hesitate to snap its neck.

He snapped the neck of a Volatile. He, a Hunter. When a human could barely kill it without flares. The body flung down to the floor.

"How many are there?" Jack gasped, grabbing for Crane's hand back to her feet. "We need to take out those Volatiles before we can deal with that Hive."

" _Three more. No. Four. There's four._ "

"Bloody - what I would give for some flares-"

" _Uh, hello?_ " Crane grumbled. " _I'm still here!_ "

"Oh, you'll be fine," she scoffed and with a smirk and a hand gesturing to the broken window, she chided, "Shall we?"

Man, this woman really was enjoying everything chaotic. " _...Ladies first._ " Because he truly believed Jack wouldn't listen if he said he'd go first.

There was cackling out of her lips and the brunette hopped right down to the generator area. Seriously, four Volatiles. That should already tell anyone to run for the hills. Freakoid followed after, locking his sight on the closest two Volatiles around the large circular contraption.

" _This is crazy. Volatiles,_ " Crane muffled. " _Careful, Jack._ "

"Careful, says the talking zombie." Oh, she was gonna be extra careful. Even as a skilled fighter, she knew well enough it was a death sentence to go against a Volatile. But she had some new tricks up her sleeves. "Here, catch!"

 _Blosh!_

A small bag of red, coagulated blood bathed the Volatile on her right. A sweet, sickeningly stench hit Crane's nostrils. He had smelled this before. And he shook his head to snap out of its intoxicating trance.

Then suddenly, the Volatile at their left went berserk. Before his very eyes, the beings that seemed to be like animalistic brothers were at each other's throat. The strange liquid was nectar to the left Volatile, enticing it to bite the right Volatile's head like an apple. The drenched one, in desperate attempt to stay alive, ripped open its opponent's stomach.

"Picked up a nice blueprint from that boxing ring we were in. These Lures really do wonders."

" _One to your right!_ " he hollered at the sight of something moving. Now wasn't a time to talk tactics.

 _Blosh!_

It was a blind throw but she somehow hit that something and ducked away. The third Volatile's claws ditched down as a miss, hitting concrete before recoiling up to find its prey.

" _It didn't hit him!_ "

Crane jumped in the way, taking the brute force of a violent monster. They both went down, tendrils snaking around its neck and with everything he got, pulled the biting mandibles back. It despised him. It didn't want to share with a stranger.

"Hey!"

Its bright, red eyes spun to the voice. To the swinging blade.

Off went its head.

" _Ouch! Ouch!_ " Crane felt the nips as the tendrils slithered back into his arms. That was way too close of a shave. An inch down and surely, Jack would cut them off with the Volatile's head. They were still a part of him.

Jack stretched a hand down to him. "Come on-"

" _Watch out!_ "

The fourth Volatile was right behind the ex-kickboxer. She didn't see or sense it. A second of a delay and she mIggy have gone down without a head. Freakoid shot out his tendrils again, wrapping them around her in seconds and pulling her down with him. He heard her holler painfully - she had been hit.

Anger screamed out from the Volatile. He stole its food. As the shrieking monster came down to get it back, Crane blocked its way from Jack by putting his body. A slash of its attack only hit his thickened skin. Not a tear of flesh or a bruise when a Volatile would rip a human apart.

Damn, he was indestructible. But he couldn't gloat right now with this thing after Jack's meat.

Crane delivered a punch to the right cheek. Canine flew right out of its jaws. The Volatile was softened up.

"Gaargh!" war-cried Jack and she jammed her weapon into its skull. Through the mouth and out the back. The Volatile was dead immediately.

Four Volatiles in total. None rose back up.

"Gahahahaha, oh, that was nothing!" she chuckled proudly, seizing back her weapon and shaking off her thrill and terror.

" _Hey. You ok?_ " Crane asked worriedly.

"Hive. Now," she barked and climbed back up to the top of the generator. That should be top priority over her well-being, something that Crane couldn't agree on but had no choice but to comply by joining her before the disgusting, sleeping giant.

" _Ok. So how do we destroy this thing?_ " he asked next, looking at the mass up and down for some sort of solution. A weakpoint. Anything. " _We need fire, right? Molotovs? Acid? Flamethrower maybe?_ "

"Fire won't do anything to it. Neither will bullets."

" _What? Ser-! Uggh. I'm hating this virus,_ " he grumbled. When did zombies become fire-resistant?

"One solution would be to blow this thing up to kingdom come. We really can't let this thing get into the city."

" _Let's not. We need this dam. Any other ideas?_ "

"Oh. Just one."

Jack raised up an arm, slipping off one of her kickboxing gloves. She exposed the skin of her palm and without hesitation, placed the blade of her weapon to it.

"Jack!" It was already too late before Crane could stop her. She slit her own skin and purposely squeezed out her blood until the color red coated her fingers and dripped down her whole arm.

"I really hate this part," she hissed and readied up her bloodied fist.

Jack punched it. She drove her fist right into the huge mass of muscles and tendons, into an opening that looked to be tangled arms in an embrace behind a thin membrane.

And the Hive contorted. Revolted. Squirmed with agony as if Jack had stabbed its heart with a poison-tipped dagger. Venomous blood seeped through its internals, inside its safe cocoon.

A gargling sound out of the giant nearly shook the whole building. At least, that was what Crane felt. With one last gasp, the Hive fell apart.

The tendons split apart and the body spilled out. It was enormous, towering just as big as a Demolisher. What was more shocking was how different and yet familiar it looked. If he could pick one phrase to describe it, it was a giant version of a developing Volatile. An Alpha one at that. Their red-exposed skin...it looked hardened with a darker blue tone.

"Ssssnrk, gah!" Jack recoiled away from the dissolving Hive. The stench of burning flesh could easily be smelled. Well, she did just stick her hand into something larger than the sleeping tendon-dressed Volatiles Crane had killed before. And with an open wound.

Whatever that thing was, it burned.

" _Shit, that looks bad,_ " Crane murmured, noting the redness and the edges of her cut eaten away. Like stomach acid.

"I'm fine. The generator," she quickly brought him back to the urgency of the situation. They were not out of the woods yet. "Now."

" _Right._ " Crane hopped onto the generator while Jack tended to her wound. He found the root of the problem quickly - whatever those bodies once were, their personal belongings were also on them, roped in the leftover organic gunk. The artificial and biological stuff was what jammed the shaft. " _Ugh. This is just nasty._ "

Normal hands wouldn't be able to pull them out from the thin gap. But Crane wasn't normal anymore. His tendrils shot down through the gaps, dancing around to find a loose pipe in the rotors. One heave to get it all out.

 _Keeee-Thud!_

 _ROOOOOOOOOOOOOMFF!_

And the generator roared aloud. Alive. Following its bellow came light.

The hydrodam lit up inside like a Christmas tree. White, red, green, yellow, all sorts of big and small electric lights blinked on. An awakening happening around the duo, Jack almost having a sense of familiarity and amazement like the lights turned on around the boxing ring.

Then her earpiece rang. She barely said anything after she popped it back into her ear.

" _Jack!_ " cried Siv. " _The power! The whole city is coming back on!_ "

There was nothing for her to tell other than Siv's words. But she wanted to be sure. Already, Jack was on her feet and up towards the catwalk above.

Crane was close to her heels. Up to the roof, where she shoved her way out of a hatch and glanced pleadingly at the dark horizon.

Like blood pumping through the body, bringing back life, the white dots snaked throughout the city, one district at a time. Everything was coming back, just as Siv said. Jack could even spy the Junction turning much brighter than before.

Power was back. Electricity was in the hands of man again. And the UV lamps waned off the monsters back to their holes.

She heaved a great deep sigh of relief. "Thank goodness…"

" _Ohmifuckinggod_ , _You did it, Jack! You saved the whole city!_ "

That was a nice compliment. But Jack couldn't take the praise. "Shy guy saved the city. I just tagged along."

" _Well, you both did it! Ahahaha! Oh my god...I thought we were dead for sure._ "

"You and me both."

There was scuffling of voices in the background before Siv came back to the mic. " _Mahir will send some people over to the dam at dawn. Clean up the place and keep it running._ "

"Eh, we did half the work for you here. Someone had the same idea to make this place a safe zone. It's secured now."

" _Roger that. He said they're gonna hold a damn celebration for you two when you get back._ "

Jack didn't have enough time to stop Siv there. The young runner had already turned off the mic, too eager to celebrate the victory towards another day.

" _A celebration. Look at you. You've made yourself big with them,_ " Crane laughed. He was too in awe, staring back at the bright city, to notice not a crack small from Jack's face. " _I'm actually envious of you._ "

"Really? Then you should join me. It is for you too."

" _Eh, no thanks. But if you can smuggle me out a cold drink, that'll be good enough,_ " he poked back at her throwback. Crane glanced back at Scanderoon - they were too far for him to pick up anything with his incredible sight. But he had a small piece of mind that with the power grid back meant the survivors were safe at their homes. " _'Cause I really need one after all that craziness-_ "

He wheeled back at the sound of something sliding. His anxiety crept back when he noticed the proud fighter weakly leaning against a wall, plopping down to the ground. Slow breathing. Eyes barely focused.

" _Jack? Hey!_ " he called, hurrying over to her and checking for injuries. There were none. " _Shit, are you ok?_ "

"I'm...fine. Just a bit light-headed... Used a bit too much back there," she gasped between breaths.

That only gave little reassurance to Crane. He took her bandaged hand - the bleeding had stopped and it wasn't an alarming amount that she would need a blood transfusion.

" _We should get you to a safehouse. Probably first aid if this keeps up._ "

"Pft. I'm fine. It's just a little blood loss."

" _Right. 'Used a bit too much'. 'A little blood loss',_ " he stated with 'air-quote' fingers. " _You gotta stop talking out of your ass._ "

"And what? Bullshitting yourself never killed anyone," she jested while panting. She then glanced around aimlessly. "Hey, why did the power shut down again?"

Ok, was this more 'talking out of her ass' again? _"You forgot? That lighting took it out._ "

"Oh." There was doubt in her voice, like she was struggling to recall.

" _Are you really ok?_ " Crane pushed again. Something wasn't right.

"Right. Right. Light-headed," she exclaimed. " ...I just need five. It'll go away… Why don't you wait at the boat?"

" _Yeah, no. I'm not leaving you-_ "

"I'm not going anywhere either... Five minutes. And I'll be right down."

There was something off he couldn't put his finger on it. His instincts had always been the better judgment at times and for some reason now, they spoke to him. Yet the shrewd grin on her tired face told him to ignore his reasoning.

She looked fine, just as she said she was. His senses even read how slow but steady her heartbeat went. A little creepy to himself - that an infected could easily detect how weak their prey was - but it was one thing that assured him there was nothing major. Like she would one day drop dead.

That thought...kinda scared him.

" _Five minutes._ "

He gave a pat on her shoulder. A job well done for the both of them. And he ducked back down the hatch.

Freakoid was gone.

But the headache was still there.

It started when that Volatile had jumped through the window and on her. The back of her head had hit the floor - just a bump.

The next Volatile's hook to her skull made it worst.

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out. Jack tried to steady her shaking hands as she dug out her medicine bottle. Two reds popped right out, but before she took them, she counted.

A third of the bottle left.

She really needed to stable herself. Bones had told her many times not to aggravate herself. It would only make it worse for her. Same went for her doctors and her nurse. It would make her want the pill addictively. Which meant she'd run out quickly and be in a predicament.

The closing of hospitals in the middle of a zombie outbreak wasn't her biggest concern. Whether inventory had this drug listed down was.

So Jack needed to keep track of her intake. But it was hard to tell someone like her to be careful.

She took her meds and counted down the seconds. Breathed in and breathed out.

Breath, Jackie. Breath.

She needed to stay a little longer.

* * *

Crane waited. He didn't have a watch anymore, probably gone long after he had first lost his mind. Five minutes didn't seem like a long time but it still irked him a little. Yes, the dam was safe now. The city had power again. And the rain had finally stopped.

Just...it didn't sit right on him. Leaving Jack up there.

And finally, what felt like a boring eon, his waiting was over. The ex-kickboxer exited out of the working hydrodam with absolutely no fear that she was still under the blanket of night, where the infected was at their worst in horror. As if this was a normal evening walk for her.

" _Feeling better?_ "

"Lots," the brunette sang, rubbing the ache out of her neck as she briskly strolled to the boat. "I need some sleep after all this-" That was then she stopped, looking at Crane in an odd way, hands in pockets. Thug-style. "What are you doing?"

His claw was barely touching the engine button before he turned back to see a rare expression of scorn from her. " _What? I'm driving us out of here._ "

"Why?" she softly snapped.

" _Ok. Sure. Weird for a zombie to be driving a boat. But you should take it easy-_ "

"Uh-uh." That was the answer she anticipated out of Freakoid, not about the strangeness of a beast riding a vehicle. And she hated it. "I'm fine and dandy. Now move over."

" _Ok, ok. Sheez. Stubborn woman,_ " he mumbled, sliding down to the bow. He knew he shouldn't step on her toes, but if she wanted to overdo it on herself, then alright. He'd let her have her way.

And probably five minutes later, he was going to eat those words and behave as the sorta gentleman he should be. He really was too soft.

The boat set off across the river. Now the night wasn't as dark as before. Jack could see and make their way back to the channel.

" _You know, it doesn't hurt._ "

"What does?"

" _Letting someone take over the wheel._ "

"And I appreciate the help. But you're making a mountain out of a molehill."

" _We had four Volatiles._ "

"Hm, sounds like a record. Wonder if anyone can beat that."

Crane didn't join her in her little joke. Nobody should joke of how close their thread was at being snipped off.

Jack sighed. Oh, this zombie wasn't going to let it go. "I'm alright. And if I'm not doing anything when I'm alright...it makes me impatient."

" _So a workaholic._ "

"Call me whatever you want-"

" _No, no… To be honest, I was like that._ "

"Oh. Got ourselves some memory, huh?"

That made Crane zip his lips tighter. But he showed no sign of resistance. Because he understood her.

" _Work was...used to be always important to me_."

"So you quit? Was it the paycheck? The working conditions? Or the ethics?" she poked for the details.

" _Um… The paycheck wasn't one reason._ " He needed to make a living anyway. " _Conditions, eh, fifty-fifty. Ethics...at the start, I... I thought they meant something._ "

"Sounds like you changed your mind."

" _Yeah...the work I did...I couldn't do it anymore._ "

"I see... The disagreements were what made you quit?"

Crane bit his lower lip lightly. How right she was on the truth. " _Yeah… A lot of it..._ " He huffed out a sigh. " _But that was in the past. I was done with them._ "

"Hm," she chuckled. "Good on ya. So have any backup plans after all this?"

He gazed at her with a baffled look. " _Excuse me?_ "

"You know, if we cure this virus, get you back to normal. Do you have any other position you're looking into? Changing jobs is always the hardest."

" _We're in the middle of an outbreak,_ " he exclaimed. " _The whole world might be in shambles because of this epidemic?_ "

Jack just shrugged. "That's if it spreads. And hey, maybe in a month or two, this all blows over and we're fine. We can return back to our normal lives."

" _Suuure. Way too optimistic there. And what? You're offering me a job after all this is over?_ "

"Pft, I'm retired. I've got no choice but to live my sunset days for as long as possible."

" _You don't look old enough to be retired._ "

"Oh no. Desk jobs aren't for me. If I could, I'd want to go back into the ring. Back to kickboxing again."

" _Well...if this virus does blow over, why don't you?_ "

Another chuckle out of her. "That would be nice. But no...my fighting days have long been finished since Champ took my spot."

" _You were bested._ "

She nodded shamelessly. There was an aura seeping from her expression, an old feeling that Crane would only see on the people of Harran - that kind of reminiscing of the good days before the collapse.

However, this time, he had a bit of apprehension in him. The name, Champ. He had heard it before and his instincts told him to push against the veil of curiosity.

He was afraid to ask the question.

" _And what, you stopped kickboxing_ _just like that_ _?_ " he scoffed, mainly to shake off that annoying pull inside. " _You were crazy enough to go one on one with these things._ "

"You can't deny a little skill can help you stay alive," Jack exclaimed straightforwardly. "I've been through worse. This outbreak can't put a dent in me."

Arrogant. Real arrogant. Thankfully, she didn't blabber on and on like that psychopath. About morals and opposite sides. All that stupid crap that Rais couldn't just shut up.

But when she said she had been through worse, it piqued at his interest. He knew he was going to regret it either way...but he had to know.

" _Who's Champ?_ " Jack didn't reply straight away. " _You've said that name before._ "

That got her into a better mood. "An old rival of mine. Much younger than me. More stubborn than me, that's for sure. We went against each other in the ring a year ago."

" _You sound close for just being opponents._ "

"Eh, it started out as good sportsmanship. Then her little brother kept on bugging me." She rolled her eyes. "Then, I guess we became friends... Heh. Both kids were nuisances. Couldn't mind their own businesses. They were good people. Naive but good. Someone had look out for them."

" _Really?_ "

"Well, her brother, Rahim. Yes. Damn brat got himself into a lot of trouble in those days. Couldn't sit still for one second," she grumbled. Almost like an old woman complaining of how badly her grandchildren misbehaved.

He agreed with her. Rahim was...almost impossible to work with.

That grip on his heart came back.

Jack didn't seem to notice. She was already trailing her eyes off, seeing the destruction around them. Her wide smirk softened down with a tint of worry. "He'd better not be getting into any trouble."

Crane sat further back into his seat. He wished he could just throw himself overboard and drown right now. Please, stop. This was a joke, right?

He had to ask. Even if he didn't want to.

" _What's...what's her name?_ "

"Whose?"

" _Your friend. Champ._ "

He prayed. He really prayed to God it wasn't the answer he thought was right. Even if everything fell together so well like pieces of a puzzle.

An ex-kickboxer. A person who easily said Rahim's name like he was her spoiled child.

The answer came so casually.

"Jade Aldemir."

And that did it. That hit Crane like a shovel to the back of his head. A dagger stabbed and gutted him from the inside.

"She's the best fighter out there. Hell, she fought me. The Wild Dog." Jack heaved down a deep sigh, down away the worry. "Eh, I'm not too worried. Tower told us Ravs they got a new guy helping them. This 'Crane' guy."

He squeezed his fingers tight, sharp fingertips digging down.

Stop.

Stop doing this to him.

"On and on, Rahim keeps on blabbering how great he was. Heh, sounded like he found a father figure, alright. Made me a little jealous that I got replaced like that. Next time I see him, I'm shaking his hand-"

" _Please stop._ "

And that Jack did, wheeling up with a puzzled face. The voice was wrenched with an emotion she wasn't too sure she could detect. Something between the lines was shaking, spat through clenched teeth but Freakoid averted his eyes from her.

"What?"

Further down his eyes went. She should know, shouldn't she? She made it sound like her group had been talking nonstop to the Tower.

But one glance at her confused face made him slowly boil up.

" _Nothing,_ " was all he said and then to himself, keep it together, Kyle.

Jack wouldn't budge. Her eyes behind the shades were stern and stiff on him.

" _Nothing_ ," he pushed and then tried to change the topic. Turning back to the buildings at the sides of the canal. " _Shit._ "

"What now?" The note in her voice wasn't filled with too much annoyance from Crane's earlier rudeness. There was some good that she didn't hold back a grudge but there was that steady glance that said to him, she had her eye on him.

" _No. Just..._ " He breathed deeply. " _I really hate this body of mine. I see a lot more than I should see._ "

"Am I supposed to know what's happening?"

" _It's just… I don't know how to explain it._ " He tried, really, tried with the best words he could think of. " _I'm seeing humans behind walls… I know...how to stalk them and-_ "

"Leeet's not finish that sentence, shall we?"

" _Doesn't make it any better for me. And it's not just them. It's the infected too. I know where they are too. How they'd react. Where and when they'll come._ "

"Hm. No wonder you were quicker than me back there."

" _It's just all strange to me. It's been days and...it feels both natural and unnatural. And that's what...scares me._ "

"I'd say that's a good thing."

" _What?_ " he scoffed, raising up both open claws at her. " _Being like this is a good thing?_ "

"The fear." And that surprised him. "It'd be more terrifying if you weren't scared of it. Same goes for the ring. If you don't have fear, you don't have control."

Ok, he really had no idea how kickboxing or any sort of wrestling was all about. But there was some level of truth behind her words. He did learn judo. " _Um. Aren't you not supposed to be afraid in order to be in control?_ "

"Yes. But without fear, it gives you tunnel vision. It forces you to go kill someone without mercy. Makes you no better than these walkers."

That was a sentence that reflected the harsh and dark truth Jack tended to hide between her words. However, he stopped himself because he had to turn this around. This wasn't his point-of-view, this was Jack's.

For the past few days, he had watched and examined her fighting style. There was a sort of metaphorical leash on her but he had to ponder based on what she just said.

How far had she gotten to losing it? Like he did. As a human, not as an infected.

"But you're not them." The atmosphere quickly changed on a dime, however. "Look around you. You're in a boat, talking to me. They're gagging around with no direction. You're not one of them anymore."

" _Neither am I human anymore,_ " he rebuked grimly.

"Eh, subjective. But you know, that sixth sense of yours might help us out."

" _Oh, really how?_ "

"How good are you at reading people?" she asked such a peculiar question so modestly that Crane wasn't sure how to answer. "When you're in the ring, against your opponent, you gotta read their body languages. Their faces. That's the same outside the ring too. People give too many subtle hints without realizing it. One flinch can say, "back off", another type can read "trust me". A twitch can say, "I'm nervous" and a furrow of the eyebrow says "it's nothing". A shift of the eyes can tell me I have a liar."

And now, he was getting uncomfortable. Because he had given signs throughout their conversation. He huffed irritatedly through his nostrils.

He didn't like how close to the cut she was at analyzing him, right on the dot on "liar".

"A scorn like that can say "you're reading too much into this"."

"Ahem," he coughed and tried to get himself better in his seat. How far was this boat ride to the nearest safehouse?

"It becomes too late before you turn the conversation around to your favor."

" _And you're good at reading these hints?_ "

A nod of her head. "Some folks tell me I'm a mind reader. But I'm not. I've met all kinds of people to know enough how predictable they can be. It be by word or by fists."

"Uh-huh." Yup. He really couldn't get a good read on this woman. This was on dangerous waters. She was going to make him open himself up like a book, all of the pages delicately peeled apart. Crane wouldn't be able to see it coming either. "You're damn scary, you know that?"

She gave a slight bow. "It's another useful skill. People in these kinds of times don't think properly that they let their emotions do all the talking. The turnabouts are rather fun to do."

" _Sure. If you're not being shot at._ " Crazy men had nearly taken his life. Several times.

"Well...doesn't always go the way I want it to go. My point being is that sixth sense of yours. You can predict what these infected can do. I can't. These zombies don't have any emotions like you or me. They aren't predictable to me."

" _Ok. Don't really see your point._ "

"Simple. You can read their patterns. Their behaviors. Everything. You can study them and tell me what to expect. It's like a...safari expedition. We Ravs could really use that information too."

" _And how exactly does that help them?_ "

"A lot. We've been making all sorts of tools and gadgets just based on these animals. And they're adapting. They are learning how to undermine us, back in the Outskirts. Even here," Jack explained earnestly. "If we know how they think, we know how to stop them before the next attack."

Stop them. " _Yeah...and me too._ "

Jack shook her head. Ugh, that pessimistic attitude of his. "Now don't go all dark and broody there-"

" _No. I mean it._ " Crane had to have a backup plan. This whole talk has made him realized that was the case. What happened at the dam was another bonus. " _You were right that I needed someone… But I also need someone to take me down… If I go too far over the edge._ "

That silenced Jack out. No, his eyes, his little facial twitches told her he wasn't kidding. All the signs on him wouldn't let her joke that all he needed to do was take a bite off her and he'd be fine from her venom blood.

He really needed that final stop. He would need mercy to end his life. Just as he gave it to those needing it.

How funny, ironic, the table has turned around. It had been him who thought he would put her down. She hadn't turned yet, didn't look like she would and Crane was convinced she could never - if her blood was doing something to the virus. Now Jack was going to be the one who'd axe him down.

He didn't ask for her yes or no. He wouldn't take it. Crane ended that discussion then and there and put that burden upon her. It should be a simple decision for her.

And the ride onwards was quiet.

Crane aimlessly looked back to the buildings. The carnage was no more. There were bodies, on the streets, inside houses, on the roofs. But the nearest safe areas with survivors locked up were some little beams of hope to him. Despite how long that blackout was, even Scanderoon was revolting to stand strong through the darkness.

He and Jack managed to save enough lives in a dying metropolis. There were losses but...they did everything they could.

" _Hopefully, this blackout didn't do too much damage to the city-_ "

Suddenly, the boat ride slowed down. Crane glanced over his shoulder to see the drastic change in Jack's face - how easy her frown grew longer.

"Oh no."

Out of the blues, Jack brought the boat back to speed again but with a change of plans.

" _Hey, what's up?_ " he asked again, noticing her furrowed brown eyebrows.

"Up ahead," she pointed. Crane searched about the city for whatever caught her attention. "That's smoke."

The black chimney streamed in the far distance. That meant fire.

" _I see it. What about it?_ "

Jack's reply brought him back down to Earth. Down the grim, ugly, and heavy reality again.

"That's where the Orphanage is."

* * *

A/N: Heyo all! New chapter! :3c And this was both a fun but also difficult chapter to do. To be honest, I had several ideas here and there but changes before I thought of putting one or the other. Like at first, I had thought of them going straight to Harran after the dam but decided against it for the time being. I had thought of a different enemy type but changed it even though I already had decided that this wouldn't be the chapter where this one big guy gets revealed. THIS type will only be at the Outskirts. So yeah, it's sorta like a first step to its reveal. Many things would have gone in but I kept exchanging them around until I felt this was good. It's also a good chapter that shows more of the development between Crane and Jack - both the dismay he has to endure learning more about who Jack is and the perspective she lays out about human nature. It's kinda like two onions and I'm going through the layers in this fic.

Another important point I wanted this chapter to have too is about Jack's blood. That for whatever type of monster, big or small, it affects them fast and immediate like a venom. Heck, any venomous snake can take down a horse. This also means that a lot of conditions will affect those zombies. It could not only kill zombies but also stop a "developing" type in its track. And more. Jack's blood is, which a friend of mine pointed out, kinda like a Bolter actually. Which Bolter poison is one thing you need for your weapons. Now how she became like this and the whole details behind it will be stated hopefully in the next coming chapters (and why I say hopefully because Bolter poison is something I really need to understand even if it's fictional so it just makes sense to me and sounds viable in this fic).

This also applies to Crane too. He is a special case, relating to what happened from the Following and that this will go into more details down the chapters but he is still an infected so some things still will apply to him. That would also make sense that Jack's blood not only hinders his other self from coming out but also stopping his body from developing like Volatiles. It's his anchor even though theeeeere's probably a small percentage he could also die from it. Sure, we could go for the mind over matter buuuut besides the Following example...I don't really see any stronger way of writing for Crane to stay sane unless he takes something that keeps him sane. So yeah, logical sense was to have him bite something that would hold his mind down, aka Jack's blood.

It's also a good point of view I'm seeing and comparing Bolters to Jack. There were a couple of questions like why would Volatiles protect Bolters if they're poison to them, why a Bolter's biology is so different, etc. More importantly how does it affected the unturned infected survivors? And how does Jack react to that sorta of deal, when it's being bitten by a familiar face. The next chp is gonna actually tackle that dilemma for sure.

Anyway, that's the end of my author's note. And hopefully I can get the next one out without toooo much difficult. However, I sense a dream scene is gonna come soon. Ugh, more dialoguuuue. Ahhhhhh, my weaknessss. SO hope you enjoy this chp! Please read and review! :D Tell me any problems you want me to fix or ideas I should take further down.

PS. I am also editing previous chps again cuz I forgot some details and made some mistakes. :Y


	17. FIFTEEN: SMOKE AND MIRRORS

**FIFTEEN: SMOKE AND MIRRORS**

* * *

Dawn hadn't crept across the dark sky yet but the small orange embers scattered about - brighter and brighter the boat closed towards the orphanage. All was too quiet to Crane's liking. No sound, no movement, and so far, no highlighted bodies, whether human or zombie.

Once the boat reached a spot in the canal, Jack jumped off and bolted.

He understood and followed. She was their latest visitor so of course, anyone would feel a bit overwhelmed. But Crane underestimated how easy a person like Jack would get shaken. Even he, a 'turned', was just as drawn to the destruction and ruin as he was as a human.

"Shit," he murmured at the sight before them.

UV floodlights blinked and sparked violently. The spiked barriers and platforms around the front gate had been demolished down. Blood was smeared across the tar road. It was as if Grendel, the monster from myths, gutted out the orphanage. Or better yet, like something had burst out from inside.

The old stones couldn't protect the residents during the blackout.

The duo skidded quickly into the building, completely shocked by the damage. It had already been done. The smell of blood and gunpowder was old, about a few hours ago. The further they slowly walked into the building, the more the number of bodies became.

Crane had nothing to say. He couldn't find the right words for...for this carnage. The blackout had completely engulfed this place right up while they were trying to get power back on from the other side of the city. It was already written in the stones. " _But we tried…_ "

"That's all we did. We tried." Just as bitter as his own frustration, Jack's fingers tightened. The fists were itching to hit something but she kept them down. What was the point - everyone was gone.

Jack could only sigh. She had to wonder how many more lives were lost from the blackout-

" _Jack._ " She wheeled back to Freakoid, pointing one of his talons to the ground floor closet. Jack was back in her cautious stance with her weapon seized out. Ready.

Something was behind this door.

Slowly, she reached for the doorknob. Three fingers went up.

One...two...three!

She pulled the door open.

"Wait! Wait! Don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

Out came a large cowering ball, shaking arms stiffened over the face like a shield. It was a human, alright. But far less threatening than what they were prepared for.

"Hey, hey," Jack swiftly called, attempting to calm down the man in the Stuffed Turtle shirt. "It's alright. You're safe now."

A peek through the arms and slowly, the man registered he wasn't surrounded by the infected like it was buffet time for them.

Then he noticed Crane behind Jack.

"GAARGH! Monst-!"

"Hang on! Calm down!" Jack held him back. Seeing the chubby man frail about did pull at Crane's gut. He had almost forgotten again and slowly stepped away. "It's ok."

" _Stop it. This is pointless… I'm heading out-_ "

"He's a friend. Hey!" Two hands clutched the man's cheeks and directed his eyes onto Jack. "He's not going to hurt anyone."

The man glanced at her like she was crazy. His gasping didn't slow down but the longer he gazed at the brunette, a person who wasn't even running away at the sight of something hideous, the calmer he slowly became.

"What… But he's-"

"A friend."

What was the point? She was delaying the inevitable for Crane. The poor guy should just let it all out and run for his dear life. But there was some spell she cast on him. Maybe because she kept his eyes on her, not on Crane. Maybe it was because of seeing this woman not flee from a monster.

Finally, the chubby guy seemed to settle down. Seemed to. It was probably a trick of the eyes for Crane. "What the fuck is he wearing? Some...Halloween costume?"

" _Yeah. Sure. Let's go with that._ "

"Convincing, though," Jack jested, like it was some creative attempt to draw back a bit of cheer to the grim atmosphere. "Helps him get past the zombies pretty easily." Another second passed and the cheeriness was gone. "Now. Can you tell me your name?"

"Name?"

"Yes. Your name."

He was still flabbergasted. Still reeling from everything that it took him a while for him to answer. "Carlo… Carlo Rover."

"Carlo. Ok. Can you tell us what happened here?"

At first, it didn't seem like he had come back to the surface. And yet, the memory was fresh. His breathing skipped quick into a panic and Carlo searched about as if whatever dark and ominous destroyed this place was coming back.

"Carlo. Look at me." It was a stern command but a gentle request that compelled Carlo. "Breath in." She held her fingers up to him, counting up to three. "Breath out."

It was an odd ritual that Carlo didn't know how to react to. But again she repeated the words and the gesture, going through the steps one by one.

"Breath in." 1, 2, 3 fingers. "Breath out."

Again, Jack said them again like they were a verse from the Bible. And the rhythm caught up to him like a trend. It was working, settling down his nerves as Jack kept it going without needing to recite her motto over and over.

"What happened here?"

Carlo swallowed. There was a swirling moment coming from the pit of his stomach that needed to come out - that he wanted it to come out. "...All the lights turned off. We tried to get them back on b-but…they came. W-We...we were surrounded."

"What do you mean? You couldn't shut yourself inside-"

"No! They didn't come through the front door! They came from inside!"

"What?"

"T-They came from the basement… They came and killed everyone! Some of us tried to run but..."

"Wait. How? I thought this place was secured."

"It was! Everything in this building was secured. B-But they got in…"

So the front defenses weren't destroyed from outside. But from inside? Was there some secret passage below this building, Crane wondered.

"Then what?"

"I-I… I…" The man really went through the darkest times ever, his hands shaking with a need to hold something.

"Carlo. It's ok. They're not coming back."

And his brown eyes were at their largest. He had a realization on his mind - and that broke him.

"They're not coming back…" And the fat man broke out into tears. "Oh god. They're not coming back."

"Carl-"

"Everyone. Sister Mary Francine. Marvin. Zeki. T-The kids… They're...they're gone…" Carlo hunched down, whimpering loudly. A horrible sight that if anyone would see, they'd be disgusted. But Carlo didn't care and let it all out. "I hid. I did nothing. I do nothing here!"

Survivor's guilt. It hit the poor sob hard. In fact, this reminded Crane too much of another person he found, cowering in the basement of a farmhouse.

"I was useless… I am useless. I shouldn't have hid-"

"You lived."

The broken man almost couldn't comprehend. That sounded wrong to him. He should have gotten a different reply. But gawking back to the woman told him he heard it right.

"You're alive and they're gone," Jack said straightforwardly. "And there's nobody to tell their story but you. You owe them that."

This talk sounded familiar to Crane. Yes, she had said something along those lines to him. Not exactly and yet, just as powerfully swaying as it was to him, it helped the unfortunate man out of his guilt.

Almost, however. Because Carlo was still back down with wet eyes.

"M-Maybe… But…" He shamefully shook his head. "It should have been me… We had kids here. They were just kids-"

"How many?"

"Gargh!" Carlo shouted. He searched for that monstrous voice. "W-What-?"

"How many kids were there?" Crane barked vocally. He'd worry about exposing his secret later.

The man with the Stuffed Turtle shift wanted to leave but again, Jack held him down with hands on his shoulders. Silently, he was told to calm down, it was alright.

Alright?! He wasn't alright! He lost everyone! The Cicadas' home was gone! And kids, KIDS, had to have been killed.

Carlo swallowed down the lump in his throat. This woman was crazy. "S-Sixteen. We had sixteen." The number then hit him and he was back to quivering his lips. "Oh god…"

"What's up, Freakoid?"

He was already on the scent, or in his case, sight. Through the ceilings and walls, he could see the small bodies huddled in three different spots. It wasn't sixteen but it was better than zero.

" _I count...nine. Small ones… Not Screamers. They're alive-_ "

"Hide 'n' seek."

" _What?_ "

Jack didn't answer. She instead ran off.

" _Hey! Wait-!_ "

"Just keep him company. I'll be back quickly!"

" _You know where they are?!_ "

She didn't wait for the clues. Or listen to the agitated man on his knees whimper, "is she always like this?" to nobody.

Jack had done this before. A simple game for children to do just to pass the time - a clever idea that could potentially have saved their lives.

Yes, it was hopeful. Tiny but enough to make Jack run straight for those spots.

* * *

She found them. Each child she met yesterday, and a few more. Hirim, Eren and two other children hiding under the staircase. Liam with his little sister, Melek in the small utility room. Instantly, Liam apologized to the adult for using it again.

Jack forgave him. And told him to go downstairs with Melek. Carlo was waiting for them, she said.

There was still one more hiding spot to find. She skipped over the construction boards instead of taking the way up the walls outside. Jack never found it - all because of Sister James.

She found the door to the play area. Claw marks across the wood - something had tried to go in but thankfully, it was locked on the other side.

With one hard shove, Jack barged right through it, hearing the kid baseball bat snap in two. And inside, it was empty. Just toys littered from a struggle. A room that was supposed to be filled with happiness had lost its colors.

But there was one more room, a closet.

And gently, Jack opened it.

Three pairs of frightened eyes blinked painfully at the light streaming in before they stared back at her. One of the owners put his own body between her and the other two. Only eleven and he was trying to show bravery.

There was one more behind them, cuddling on the blanket-covered floor.

"Hey," Jack uttered with a relieved smile. "It's ok. I'm here."

"J-Jack?" And the brave little boy was gone. It was like the ending of the Lord of the Flies, where suddenly the group of savage children comes across a British naval officer and his very presence destroyed their feral, warlike acts of a tribe. However, the orphans of Saint Sandrine Orphanage weren't thrown into the jaws of a jungle and unlike the ending, where that tribe fell down ashamed, the three children quickly embraced the only adult around gratefully.

"Did you get bitten?"

They shook their heads but she double-checked. No break of the skin, good.

"T-The monsters," Berat started off, with whimpers stopping him from trying to form sentences. "They, they came to get us."

"It's ok. They're gone now," Jack assured him.

"Where's the Sisters?" the second girl asked hopefully.

The brunette refrained from speaking out the answer. She did recall the total number of people staying inside the Orphanage, excluding the children. She counted the few bodies discovered within these walls. Probably, the others had fled from this safe place to whatever fate was outside.

The unknown was a better answer than the expectation. So she truthfully said, "I dunno. But Carlo is downstairs. With the other kids."

"Butterfingers Rover?" the third kid uttered.

Ofph, poor guy. Even the children? "Really?"

"We didn't make that. The grown-ups did."

"But he's better than them. He plays with us."

"That's good to hear." Well, there was some silver lining. It'd probably cut further down his self-esteem if these kids were as terrible as the grown-ups.

"Lina's sleeping." The girl pointed back to the friend at the back of the closet.

"Alright. I'll take her. You three go downstairs."

The three kids nodded obediently and did as they were told. Mad Jack scooted further into the closet. There was nothing to turn the lights on inside the small space but she didn't see anything alarming on the thirteen-year-old child. Poor girl, she really had tuckered herself out.

"C'mon, sleepyhead." Jack scooped the girl up in her arms and rolled her over onto her back. "Let's get you out of here-"

It was a soft, crinkly sound of a moan. Too weak for a shriek and too sinister for a cry. A familiar kind she had heard from everyone around her, with no ability to form any sort of words. The tiny, pale arms of a thirteen-year-old latched onto her shoulders like super glue.

It happened so fast.

"Grgah!" Teeth sunk down on her neck. But unlike any survivor who mistakenly took an infected child onto their back and would scream at the surprise attack, frantically trying to shove the biter off him, Jack bore down the pain. She stayed put.

Because she knew how this would all end.

"Of course."

The choking came loud at her ears. The jaws unhinged off her skin. The grip loosened.

"But of course…"

And with an act of kindness, Jack swiftly caught young Lina before the lost soul fell back from the venom. A hand under her head and slowly, the brunette laid her down on the wooden floor.

"It's alright, Lina." All Jack could do was watch the tiny zombie gargle and contort, with foam from the mouth and uncontrollable tears from the red eyes. "It's over now."

There was just a small moment. A voice incapable of saying words begged with gasps. Like Lina was still behind those eyes. She was there, hoping to be saved. Just like her friends.

That person was long gone. Pleads out of a mindless undead were just tricks. But Jack grasped her hand and held it tighter. Like a parent giving one final squeeze of remorse and reassurement at a child's bedside.

The seizures dispersed and the young orphan's eyes weakened.

She stopped moving.

Thirty seconds later, she didn't move.

"You'll see your father soon."

Jack rested the limped hand down before making the final preparations. A child in a world like this didn't deserve anything half-assed. Carefully, she slipped off the broken spectacles and folded them, putting them under Lina's hands. Gently, Jack closed her eyes and caressed the hair from her face.

But the brunette didn't leave.

This wasn't the first for her.

"Hush, baby, hush, fain you off to bed.

Daddy's gone to buy you a mockingbird.

The little brown bird's in the tree on the hill.

And the sleepless creeps from the windmill."

It was a soft, soothing tone that no human could hear it from the third floor. But it fell on Crane's sensitive ears. He glanced around for the source until his eyes fell on the highlighted body above the inner court. It was hunched down like a mother holding her sleeping child.

"Hush, baby, hush, we're all alone now.

Daddy's gone for the priest's rosary in town.

The bright sunrise will come over the hilltop.

And the devil knocks right at our doorstep."

He had never heard the lyrics before. But he listened nonetheless. It was soothing yet disturbing - like a bittersweet promise that all was alright soon even though the bleak truth was right outside, ready to grasp the singer and listener with blood-curdling, bony fingers.

Gradually down the few lines, sun rays seeped through the broken windows. Morning stretched over the concrete-jungle hilltop.

"Hush, baby, hush, rest your little head.

Daddy's gone to get the axe from the farmstead.

The bogeyman taps on our burning windowsill.

And the little brown bird's in the tree on the hill."

The last notes were sung. The bigger body rested down the small body on the floor. Crane heard her say "Goodnight, Lina." before rising up and trotting down the rows of stairs. His eyes fixed on the moving entity until it was right in front of him.

Jack.

Crane stopped himself from calling her name, or asking what happened. Her face said it all. It was like a sad gravedigger had buried his wife.

"Where's Lina?" One of the boys, Berat, noticed that the ex-kickboxer had come down alone. "Isn't she awake?"

How optimistic. But it didn't make a mark into Jack's unsparing fortress. The nine children didn't know but the two men came to a conclusion before the brunette said it.

"Lina's not coming back."

The words sunk in - only to those who understand what the term, death meant. But Berat couldn't believe it.

"...No."

Jack was silent but Carlo had already spoken out. "Berat-"

"No!" the small boy hollered, almost loud enough to for any zombie to come waning towards his voice. "You're lying! Stop lying!"

Berat rushed over to her and hit her. Smacked his fists on her padded legs. And Jack let him do so, allowing all the frustration to come out onto her.

"She's sleeping! She's not gone!"

And in a desperate attempt to prove her wrong, he then ran for the stairs. But Jack was faster, with an arm arresting his body from scampering off on his own.

"Let me go! Lina's fine!"

Seeing a young boy wishing to see his friend again stroke the flames in the other two older children as well. Their faces said it all: they refused to believe the words of a grown-up. Their legs were ready to go, they were determined to show the woman she was wrong.

Crane was almost ready to stop them. They couldn't go and see the body. Again, Jack was fast. With her feet planted on the spot, she reached out and captured them easily in her arms. All because they tried to flock towards the stairs, where she stood at the bottom.

"Let me go!" Berat hollered again, trying to fight and break free.

Jack held the three children tightly.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't want to listen. None of them wanted to hear it.

"She was already bitten."

Then the truth stopped them. Berat had been denying it the entire time.

Lina had been bitten. The memory played back in his head - how terrified he was at seeing a monster reach through the closing gap of the attic room door. The thirteen-year-old girl was trying to lock it up with the broom through the slip of the doorknob but during the attempt, the blood-covered teeth managed to sink down onto her arm.

She said she was fine.

She told them everything was alright.

Berat's eyes swelled up with more tears. The punches on her chest came weaker and finally, he rested his head onto her shoulder with loud wails. The other children broke down too while the other youngsters huddled close to Carlo.

"W-Why...? She was fine."

Jack let them cry. She didn't let them go. Words couldn't make it all go away for the little ones - Carlo was struggling to find them and make the sadness go away. Crane couldn't even speak - he'd only frighten the little ones away.

So only the silence could drown it away-

"Lina saved you," Jack broke the thick quietude, unhooking herself off the three kids. Throughout this entire time, her hood had been down, showing that stoical and unsmiling profile to the children. "She's the one who told you to hide."

The young girl in her arms nodded. And like a contagious infection, the others did the same. And in the end, Jack nodded too with acknowledgment. During her visit to the orphanage, she had counted sixteen children. Out of that number, only three was older than ten. Lina was one of them. So the oldest child was the one who had the say-so.

And she told them to go for their hiding spots.

"Don't forget her," Jack exclaimed as she wiped the tears off their faces with her gloved hands. The strong woman stood up with the aura of a warrior that warmed the little ones' fear away. "She cared about you very much. You were her family."

" _Jack. Those teeth mark-_ "

Suddenly but gracefully, she turned back to Freakoid with a finger to the lips. Don't, she silently spoke to him. Her furrowed eyes were behind her shades but she really hoped he'd read the message off her face.

Crane connected the dots quickly and did as he was told.

Don't tell them their friend turned and was put down by Jack.

"H-Hey. It's ok." Carlo gathered up the children, quickly forking out a handkerchief to wipe away all the tears. "E-Everything's alright now… Lina's in a good place. Yeah, she's in a good place. C'mon."

It was sad indeed. Carlo Rover, the useless bum, was trying. He wasn't the best-looking guy, he wasn't the strongest or even the bravest. He did whatever he could do but many times, he fumbled those up. Even trying to cheer children up was another. He wasn't a married man yet.

"You're still alive. Y-You're all still alive. A-And...it's thanks to Lina! It's thanks to her..."

That did help. Just a bit. It'd take a long time before the children would be fine, before he'd be alright too.

The grief still lingered in the air. And Jack went onto business, pulling her hoodie over her head.

It was to pay respect.

"Siv, can you send someone to the Orphanage for pickup?"

" _Uh, sure. We just sent some people out to check the damage in town. Are they ok?_ "

The ex-kickboxer bit her lip bitterly. "Place got hit badly…"

" _Wha - When -_ " The young runner couldn't continue with her sentences. " _Because of the blackout?_ "

"Looks that way. We have one guy and four, six, nine children here. No other survivors. Think they can stay at the Junction?"

" _Definitely. For as long as we can hold. Alpha's nearby, five minutes top._ "

"Much appreciated." With the end of the call, Jack put the earpiece away. "Friends from the Junction are going to take you there."

Carlo nodded nervously but gratefully. "Thank you. Thank you so much." And he tended back to the little flock around him.

She didn't want his thanks. All she did was get things moving again. She didn't save a life or stop whatever catastrophe hit the Orphanage.

And she ended a person.

She was the villain after all.

"Where's the scary man?" little Hirim asked so timidly, it drew out the cocky smirk from Jack. But she did wonder with a peek over the shoulder. Freakoid was immediately gone the moment the people from the Junction came into the picture.

But she knew where was his hiding spot. Oh, he was real bad at this whole hide-n-seek.

"Well," she started, kneeling down to her. "He's keeping an eye out for the bad ones. Making sure everyone's safe."

"Like a superhero?" another boy, Eren, pointed innocently.

"I guess you can call him that." Amusing. Freakoid, a monstrous superhero. "Alright. The nice people are gonna take you to a safe place."

Little Hirim and Liam wheeled back to see a group of strangers approach through the open doors of the Orphanage. They appeared suddenly, their transport being a larger boat docked next to Serendipity in the canal. Some held scary guns, some wore the same kind of gear the grown-ups here did. The children watched one talk to Jack about something while two women gave them reassuring smiles.

The nightmares were over. The sun was here. And they were going to leave this awful place.

Melek was still a little drowsy as her older brother held her tightly. In a protective circle around the children, the men from the Junction escorted them out into the open street. It was cleared out thanks to them before assessing the situation inside. The little one began wondering - where were they going?

She had been brought up for most of her tiny life. The Orphanage was her home, everyone was her family. Never once had she ever went beyond the walls, not when the Sisters told them they couldn't because of the monsters. And now they were leaving her home.

There was one person she noticed who didn't go with the big group. And she waved sleepily at her.

Jack waved back too. She didn't follow after them, her feet rooted on the spot. Until the large group was gone around the bend of the channel, she stayed quiet.

"You can come out now. They're gone."

Crane poked his head out from the shambles of a nearby hall but he didn't step out just yet. With his powerful sight, he watched the many orange skeletons leave before their boat disappeared off to who knew where. Eventually, he let out the tense sigh he had been holding in before the Alpha team arrived. On one hand, he didn't want to have anyone see how horrible he looked regardless of this disguise he wore. On the other, he was saving them from being scarred by a monster like him.

" _Least it's over for those kids_ ," Crane exclaimed with relief. " _You handled that pretty well. Me, honestly, I...don't really do well with kids. When I was human._ "

And he said that truthfully. He did try, better than most people he came across, those having to deal with orphans and children while struggling in an epidemic. But he did do it quickly, because he was against the clock and so was everyone. That didn't mean he would ignore a child over his mission on a split second.

Jack, however, had an extreme amount of patience. For crying grown men and scared little children. He had to admit, it was awe-inspiring. Moving that her words shook Carlo to the core. How harsh she was to give the blunt truth but calm to that boy taking his anger out of her. Crane couldn't see himself doing any of that to a couple of kids. He would give a white lie instead. Because it was the right thing to do.

She was more patient than his human self was. Jack didn't falter, she didn't ignore.

Even when he telepathically and softly laughed - mainly as a means to break the thick atmosphere - she didn't budge. Her old-looking back had been to Freakoid this entire time.

" _Jack?_ "

Nothing. Ok, this silence treatment was starting to irk him. He couldn't believe himself that he was actually missing her annoying personality. A quiet Jack actually gave him signals that, oh no, this wasn't right to him. Why wasn't she coming with some silly comeback like always?

"Remember what I said about this venomous blood being a nice, little perk, Freakoid?"

The stiffness in the air was broken by the random question thrown at him. And yet, Jack didn't expect an answer back.

"It is nice sometimes...but not every time. Sometimes, you'll see familiar faces. Sometimes those faces haven't even been turned yet."

The weight of the sentence caught on immediately. A bite off her blood and infected dropped like flies. A giant Hive they just encountered took only seconds to go like a popped balloon from just a punch drenched in blood. And so far, Crane has been the only one who has tasted and survived the fatal effects. Twice.

But what about people who hadn't gone over the edge yet? Those who were suppressing the virus with Antizin?

It never crossed Crane's mind. Yes, why would anyone, any human, try to drink her blood?

Unless it was intentional. Unless it was accidental.

"So when you tell me you need someone to take you out...then alright. I'll do it."

Jack unhurriedly wheeled back to the Hunter, too stunned and stiff against the wall she put up.

"Just make sure I don't hold back."

Her response surprised him. And not only that, there was not a crack of a toothy grin. She meant every word.

Crane wondered - how badly did that death above him affected her? It was a child, yes, but she was long gone. And a second delay could cost another victim. Those three children hiding above them could have turned as well if Jack didn't do the deed. Crane knew from experience, having taken down several young infected because it was too long for them. Without a second thought.

Jack had extreme patience, alright. Even for an infected child. She gave mercy just as Crane did to those who crossed his path.

But at what kind of cost?

He sighed. Why did everyone have to make it more difficult for him?

Yet, Crane pushed down that question when he took one more meaningful glance at the ex-kickboxer, strolling away with that pitiful yet strong vibe like some...well, movie character after a tragic, bittersweet event.

It wasn't just him who was given the hardest choices. He could tell just from her shoulders.

Jack had also made those kinds of choices.

Even when they were made for her.

* * *

The night had taken a toll on her body that landing on the sofa with no resistance knocked Jack right out into a peaceful daze. Her mind had been spent and it needed the recharge too. It was less than a couple of seconds before she tuned herself out from the entire world and embraced the darkness.

She just needed a couple of hours. Or a day. And she would be right as rain again.

There was no one to disturb her. She didn't have any appointments. There shouldn't be any important event today. Nothing.

Just peace and quiet…

...

 _Ding-Dong!_

…Go away, she begged sluggishly in her mind. Maybe if she pretended she was out, the person would leave.

 _Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!_

Whoever was at the door was going to have their finger broken. And the quick beating of the doorbell was irritating! As bad as that rapping house music kids were into nowadays. The pillow she squeezed over her ears wasn't helping! With a defeated groan, Jack punched her way off the sofa and walked casually to the door. An everyday motion she had done a hundred times in her normal life. The quicker she got rid of her visitor, the sooner she could get more forty winks of sleep.

She opened the door to the cheeky, dishonest grin.

"Hey, Jackie! How's it hanging?"

She sighed heavily at the clear, non-transparent lie. "Alright, Rahim. What did you do this time?"

Rahim glared at her, offended. Right at her door. "Nothing. Why do you always assumed I'm up to something?"

Jack simply crossed her arms over her chest with a mildly disappointed shake of the head. Really? He was going to hide such an obvious thing when it was as clear as day?

"Ok. How about taking that cap off?"

And the young boy's eyes flashed wide. A moment of guilt. Then a moment of deception. "What? Don't you know? This is in fashion. All the kids in my block are doing it."

"Hm. But it's rather rude to be wearing a hat inside someone else's house."

"Ye-Yeeaah? But c'mon. Rules are meant to be broken. You need to get out of the stone age."

"Are you implying I'm 'old', runt? Because it sounds like that."

Ah, shit. Big mistake. Even if the kickboxer was at her calmest, there was seeping spite coming from her aura. The folding of the arms was emphasizing that power too.

Here was where Rahim had to stop. If he kept going, he was going to become her chew toy.

But he kept going.

"What? No. You're really...hip-hop. Sure, you're bad with tech." "Hm," was what the Wild Dog ushered behind her clutched teeth, a bit of acceptance behind it. "But you're cooler than most people."

Was that enough sugar coating? He hoped that'd lessen down her cold, scary wrath but one look said it didn't break down Mad Jack's wall. She was just as tough as a punching bag.

Well, he tried. He really tried. Before meeting Jack, there were two people he couldn't get away with. Now that number became three. The only thing was...at least the professional kickboxer was a little less firm than his mother and sister.

But she was damn good at reading people and he hated that.

He took his cap off.

"Rahim. What happened to you?" Jack asked with her tone mixed with sternness and worry.

"It's nothing." He shoved the hand away from the recent cut across his eyebrow. "I just...had a little slip-up. Nothing bad."

"Those are stitches. Does Harris know?"

"No. Me and my buds were just doing some warm-ups. Nothing to worry about."

"Are those warm-ups during his session or outside his session?"

Rahim's lips crumpled with fakely-innocent eyes looking straight into that firm, hazel gaze. "During, of course."

Yet the Wild Dog steered closer to his face, just like a wolf nearing to her terrified little prey trapped in a corner.

"You looked at me straight in the eye."

Rahim took a second to look baffled. And that was relevant how? "So?"

"How often do you do that to Rookie or your mother?" Jack asked, putting the distance between them apart.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe?"

Jack scoffed lightly. "A man only looks at a woman in the eye to make an effort to lie to her."

Oh. Uh...now what should he do? Keep staring her down even more? He was lying and he knew, the more he dug the hole deep, the faster Jack was going to bury him.

"So you're saying, I'm a man?" he quickly tried to assess back the conversation.

"Cute." And it was shortlived. Nope, his lovely charms didn't work at all on the strong-willed brawler. "Now, the truth."

Rahim gave up with a groan and a hunching-down of his shoulders. "Outside. It was just one mistake. Nothing bad." And right back to his 'winning' personality. "But hey, at least we got matching scars." He grinned widely, pointing boastfully at the stitches.

"Rahim. It's the other eyebrow. And you didn't go against someone with a broken bottle in the middle of a pub."

The young man's eyes stretched wide. "Why did someone go after you with a broken bottle?"

"I didn't start it," Jack said that with a straight face. "The guy thought he could get a few ladies by buying them drinks. Nice offer if it wasn't for the date drug he slipped in."

"Omph. Glad you stopped him," he chided. "Wait, he didn't give ya a drink too, right?"

"I never accept any glass. I prefer a cold bottle. Unopened." She eyed back the closed wound on Rahim's eyebrow. "I've got a couple in the fridge."

And just like that, she was letting him in - turning away from the open door for him to walk right through. "Oh, nice-"

"Not for you, Rahim. For your head."

"I'm ok. Really! It doesn't hurt anymore."

"I'm gonna guess you fell from a very high height. That isn't something to walk off from," Jack grunted as she strolled to her small kitchen.

"I didn't break my neck! Geezus, you're the one who's going to scare Jade and my mom off by exaggerating every little detail."

"Is that why you decided to come here?" she asked. Her unimpressed expression had stayed the same since he walked in. She leaned down on the counter with her face in her hands to emphasize more on her lack of respect for him. "To hide from them?"

"For a day or two? Pretty please?"

"No."

"C'mon! Please, Jack! Just this one time! You don't know how bad Jade can be!"

"Now you're exaggerating."

The scared air Rahim had on him told her he wasn't. His body language was requesting the brunette to allow sanctuary for him into her domain. He could almost fall to his knees and put his hands together just to sell it. Rahim was the small little rabbit surrounded by predators and the clever idea that the rabbit had was to pick one of those predators to shelter him. Until he had an escape plan.

She sighed deeply, exhausting all of the air out of her lungs.

"Until dinner time. I'm not defending you when your folks find out."

"Ok, fair enough. Gives me some time to think of a convincing story!"

 _Thud!_ And Jack banged her head lightly on the counter while Rahim got himself comfortably right at home in her small apartment. Ugh, what a troublesome kid.

"Bloody hell. I should have stopped you from taking Harris' number," she mumbled with full regret. It all started with that badly-advertised poster her cousin showed her one Wednesday. It was one of those sports companies' idea to start a parkour competition with 10 grand as the prize. She could see it on Harris' face - this was a good opportunity to get new students. In five months, he'd probably get about twenty.

Too hopeful a number but Jack refrained from saying that. Then in the afternoon, Rahim had to meet her on the street and snatch that poster from her.

The word 'parkour', printed big and bright across the paper, sparked something in his eyes. He asked all sorts of questions about it until out of nowhere, Jack suddenly realized she had told him her cousin was the instructor. Rahim was off with a wicked smile.

She got an earache of a phone call from Harris the following week. Rahim became one of his students.

Well, since she had a guest, Jack might as well make some tea. She needed it more than ever.

"What are you talking about? Coach is cool! And he needed students. I managed to get him more in just three days."

"Wait. Back up. 'Coach'?" She had seized out the old, fancy teapot set, along with the necessary ingredients for two cups of milk tea. But the name, 'Coach', was enough to make her stop with a baffled face. "He only just started this whole instructor thing last month, slow down there. Don't let it get to his head."

"Parkour's awesome. It's like…the rush is frigging amazing!" He really didn't know how to describe his feeling - the rushing thrill from way up high, his brain spinning from just staring down to see the little people like ants. "Why didn't you tell me about Harris?"

"Because we're just acquaintances. You're not close enough to be my buddy."

"Whaaaat? I'm offended. It's not like I'm trying to spy on you or anything-"

"Rahim, you really need to know how to mind your own business."

"Oh, what? You had thugs come to you in broad daylight. Why should I not be worried?"

"I told you, it's nothing."

"Face it, Jack. You need an eyewitness."

"Oh, no, no. You stay out of it. I really mean it. I can handle this myself."

"If you're in trouble, then you really should talk to the cops or someone." Ugh, who the hell made this boy a boy scout? "Harran is nice but it also has its bad places. Doesn't hurt to have someone looking out for you."

"Yeah. Sure, sure," she impatiently interrupted, whipping the conversation around to change topics. "Does Jade know you're taking classes?"

"No, and she or my mom never needs to know. You know nothing."

"Serious? Mind games?" That whole 'waving the palms' in front of someone's face was a joke. With the tea prepared, Jack set the set down on the round table. Two cubes with full cream for hers, five for Rahim. Like always.

"It's ten grand! Who wouldn't wanna go for that kind of dough?" And quickly, he brought back that annoying poster from between the pages of a black sketchbook.

"It's in a month. And when did you start taking Harris' class? Last week. I bet you he said the same thing I'll say now. "You got a long way to go before you get to that level, boy"."

Holy smokes, that was on point! "Have _you_ been spying on us?" he uttered.

"I didn't need to. Because that was exactly what Mert told me when I started kickboxing." And still no convincing the bright-minded lad. She sighed heavily at his stubbornness. "Fine. It's none of my business. But don't do any more stunt or else Jade will murder me. And my cousin."

"I got this," Rahim boosted, delicately taking his cup. "In a matter of days, I could be on the same level as Harris-"

"HA!" The howl insultingly hit at his pride but Jack didn't care. "Please. You're just a rookie to him as Jade is to me."

"Wha-" He was almost lost for words at that statement. "Didn't I say she'd wipe the floor with you last week?!"

"Yes, I have more confidence in her skill than having you try to win a fight with me. Or Harris." She watched the upset boy sink back in his seat with a fold of his arms. Like a bad child with that "Dunce" hat from school, indeed. "She's been in kickboxing for two years, yes? That's a lot more than the few days you've started parkour, Rahim. That doesn't mean she can already go against the pros. Believe me, I've fought them. And you need to be in the game again just to keep the world champion title."

"Well, ok. You've got a fair point."

"I do. And I've got another: if you want to be the best, you have to keep doing your best. Jade has regular training, yes? She had two years. My cousin has more years too. He's a professional. And I had Mert training me from the start. Don't go blowing your load too early, boy. A few days doesn't make you the same level as Harris. "

That has been what past matches have taught Mad Jack. Just because you know a good right hook doesn't mean you can take down a Goliath with one punch. She had met such a Goliath to learn she couldn't rely too much on her own steps. Like Mert always told her, she had to adapt.

The same went for the modern world. You adapt, even having to sink down your teeth.

However, not everyone would agree with her and her manager. He was already below the splat of his chair, having her words be digested and eaten into Rahim at the same time.

She did come off a bit arrogant but had no intention of taking away his new favorite pastime. Rahim was a young idiot, the kindest words she could pick for him. Maybe that was why she left the door open for him.

Because if she didn't, Rahim would probably wander off too naively and land himself into more trouble.

"And...as much as I wanna convince you to stop parkouring...I won't. If you really enjoy it, then you need to commit to it. Not slipshod it."

Rahim was about to say it - he wouldn't do that, he got this. But he kept quiet. Because Jack was right. He did enjoy it but that didn't mean he would finish doing it like it was a one-time deal.

"Just promise me you won't enter the contest. There will always be another."

Another. Sure. When was that coming?

The anxiety he had always felt beside his mother's hospital bed was back. It was the same anxiety he had about his sister's upcoming tournament against Mad Jack. They really needed the money but he couldn't help but worry.

He never could find a moment to relax his mind about it. Until he had his first day of parkour.

"...It's just…it's like spreading my wings out." He wanted to explain his feeling a bit better. "Like...I can forget everything for just a minute. That I can do something for myself for once. It...it just makes me feel like...I'm me."

Now that was enough to strike hard on the world champion. It was easily relatable. In the ring, she was herself - not the usual Jack on the streets, or the Mad Jack people cheered.

Just herself.

"And...I thought I could make some money out of it. Without losing myself in the process. Does that make me sound...selfish?"

"No," Jack pointed. Another surprise out of her. "There's nothing wrong with being both selfish and selfless."

His thin apprehensive frown crept up to a small smile. "I can see why your cousin started teaching it. It's not just awesome, it's-"

"Breathtaking." That was the best word she could describe that rushing emotion. "Well, it is his passion. Just like me with kickboxing."

"Passion. Heh. Yeah." Jack noted the change in his tone before she took another sip of her tea. It was a subtle clue of disappointment but Rahim swiftly brushed it off with his usual lively self. "Guess parkour's my main hobby now."

"You have others?"

Rahim jumped in his chair. Dammit, he had mumbled that to himself. He scratched his head sheepishly but eventually pulled out the black book from his backpack. "It's nothing really. Just something I do to pass the time."

Why was he showing her those bad drawings? They were just doodles, some word phrases based on the graffiti he saw at the stations and alleyways. Nothing that impressive that he would secretly get some paint sprays, find an empty wall and start designing it.

But Jack was attentive. She had this watchful shimmer he had seen on TV and in person. Several times, he had thought she was staring into his soul and prying out every little secret he kept in.

And she was examining his drawings the same way but in a manner that she was engrossed in his sketchbook.

"I like this design." She pointed to the sketch near the edge of the left paper. Of course, Jack would pick that one, it had a wolf ready to eat the viewer up. "'Dream Wild. Die Free'... Actually, all of this is really good."

That compliment made him crack a tiny smile. "You think?"

"Yeah. You're a good artist. Go to college and you can come out better."

"Pft!" And back he slumped into his seat. "No way. They're expensive. We don't have that kind of money."

Jack cast her eyes off the sketchbook, quickly realizing her mistake. A frown had immediately painted across his face as he stared off to the floorboards - she had to remind him again the kind of situation he and Jade had.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's ok. Even Mom wants me to go but… Her health comes first. Money doesn't grow on trees."

Silence stirred into the apartment, regardless of the soft turning of the electric fan. The message in the air was easily readable, the boy's body language said it all. He had been told before to try to take his art to another level.

But life was cruel.

"A-Anyway, it's just doodles." He snatched the black sketchbook away and put it away. "I can't make a quick buck out of it - Whoa!"

 _CRACK!_

Rahim was too careless. Too fast in keeping his personal thing away. Without thinking, he had knocked the white ceramic teapot with his book. Down it went and shattered, hot tea forcing him and Jack right off their seats.

"Sordid," she groaned.

"I-I, I'm so sorry, Jack!"

"It's ok. Let me go clean this up."

"I'll help-"

"No. I don't want you cutting yourself. Again."

Rahim bit his lower lip. He barged right into someone's home and already he made a fine mess. "J-Just let me pay you back. I'm really sorry about the teapot."

She shook her head. A minute ago, he didn't want to go to college because it was expensive. Now he wanted to pay back for a broken piece of China. His priorities were really all over the place.

Fine, she'd entertain him.

"Well. The set was from England. Made from Derbyshire clay. Twenty years old. Don't think you can find the exact teapot again."

"Then I'll get any other pot. That's what eBay is for."

"E-bay?"

Rahim was shocked again. "Seriously, have you never used the Internet before?"

"I...have. Sometimes. But that's not the point. Buying just any other teapot won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because this set belonged to my grandmother from Derbyshire. She made this set. And she died four years ago, bless her soul."

Uh oh. He didn't like where this was going, even though he had no idea behind the connection. "S-So...what does that mean?"

"It means it's priceless. You can't replace it."

And back came the scared, guilty boy. All he could do was give a weak laugh out of his loud mouth and nothing of a comeback to give. He needed a hole to bury himself.

Sheez, this boy needed a backbone. Stop being so afraid of everything and handle this like a man. Of course, if Jack said that, that would probably make him go further into his hole.

But she couldn't blame him. No father, growing up in the shadow of his sister, tending to his sick mother, and keeping to his own circle of friends, not much development there that this boy wasn't exposed to. He might as well tell her he had never gone outside of Harran.

One of these days, that boy was going to lose everything in a heartbeat 'just to make a quick buck'.

"How about this?"

Timidly, he looked up to the stern glance she gave. "You teach me how to sketch like that." The offer left him confused. The next sentence left him even more baffled with eyes as big as dinner plates. "50 dollars an hour. Saturday morning till noon."

"...And we can forget I broke your teapot?" he asked hopefully.

"Ahaha, no."

And Rahim frowned that clearly read, "damn". He almost got away with it!

"Rahim, you are right. Money doesn't grow on trees. And it's not going to buy back the sentimentality of a priceless teapot. Getting money quickly for your mother's bills so you don't have to worry about Jade is a generous thought." His smile slowly stretched. Then it quickly got shut down. "But short terms like these aren't going to solve your problems. Your sister and your mother wouldn't want to lose you."

Seriously, he hated this belittlement. He got this shit from his family, then Harris and now Jack. He wasn't a kid, stop treating him like one! But the conversation did make him think. A month wasn't enough to get to that level of a pro. And before him was a woman who had many belts into her martial arts. Her experience was physical, her legend was real and that was thanks to years of commitment.

Not to arrogance, not to wrathful pride after five days of parkour.

Maybe if he had never gone to Jack's place to hide, Rahim might have decided to try his stunt again and break his neck for real.

"Going big and all the way, however, will. It takes years. But if you're really passionate about parkour, about art, then you keep committing to it. You'll get there. You only need to make that decision."

That finishing touch bandaged up his hurt. She meant those life-changing decisions, huh? He really couldn't see himself going into college. That meant going through books again and that kinda left a bad taste in his mouth. Everyone kept making 'university' sound like you'd be set for life, even his own mother - who had raised two kids on her own while juggling her teaching job.

"Think about it. About college."

Those two sentences were a common thing he had heard over and over again. It had always been from a "think before you leap" kind of conversation that told Rahim not to make a dumb move.

Yet from Jack, those words carried a different kind of meaning behind them. And he thought about it. He really did in Jack's dining room.

"And stop calling my cousin, Coach. Then we have a deal."

A deal? Just like that? 50 dollars an hour just to teach someone older than him to draw did sound better than trying the odds on a one-month-later contest. And safer. Even Rahim couldn't believe it. He almost thought it was a ruse.

"Heh," he chuckled. "You're really odd, Jack."

"You're not the first person to say that." With the tea mopped up, it was now a little easy to get the large pieces first before the sweeping. Carefully, she placed them over to the fold of today's newspapers she got from her kitchen counter.

"Really?" And Rahim was left to his devices now. He had nothing to do but watch the adult clean up his mess. That left a twitch in his foot and his eyes wandering around the house. This was the second visit but he never did have a good look until now. "I think everyone just looks at you like a legend. Look at all those trophies."

"Of course. Have a reputation to keep."

And one thing in the house caught his eye. Like a rabbit to a treat, he jumped to it, hidden behind the kickboxing trophies.

"Oh, who's this~?"

"Hey, hands off - ow!" Her tone started off the normal playful and calm full until the shard nicked at her fingers.

"Are you ok?!" Rahim hurried over to the older kickboxer, the photo still in hand.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She was quick to stop the bleeding up with a nearby hanging towel in her kitchen. The pain threshold wasn't that bad but the wound was deep.

"Shit. We should get you to the hospital-"

"I'm fine. No hospitals." There was a tiny, seeping hint of despite behind the cheery tone. "Hand that over."

It wasn't a strong tone like Rahim's mother would use since he was a scrumptious child. Like "Rahim! Stop running in the house!" or the usual "Hurry up, Rahim. You're going to be late!"

But it was a firm request that the young man compelled, passing the dark-wooden photo frame to Jack. Moreover, he did just drop that teapot and was responsible for the chain reaction.

A notice of the fierce kickboxer's sudden change - with a deep meaningful glance at the picture - was an easy sign for Rahim to pick on. Anyone could easily tell what that meant.

After all, the body languages and the smiles in the picture spoke many words in one go. It had a much younger Jack. Maybe four or five years ago, and with no crow's feet or small scars. Lassoing a strong arm gently around the brunette was a tall, broad woman in a denim shirt, tied up. And slid over her black boyish bob was a pair of sports shades - the kind almond-shaped black eyes staring back to the camera.

Damn, Rahim thought, she looked more terrifying than Jack. She could almost be a fitting rival against the Cannon. But the frozen wide, huge grin the woman gave was enough to say, "she was no foe". What sold the picture even more was the brightly-lit atmosphere at a typical Harran bar.

"You two look close," Rahim pointed as he took back his seat. "Is she a girlfriend?" he droned cheekily - like a schoolkid poking fun at someone's crush.

"Partner. From my old job."

No approval but definitely no denial there. But he was curious. "What did you work as?"

"Oooh, just...stuff. Traveling, finding people, retrieving things."

"Sooo a postal mail woman?" It was almost adorable that the young boy was finding it unbelievable to be picturing the well-known fighter in that brown uniform carrying parcels around...and yet the assumption was insulting.

"Yes. Riveting job. Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat will stop this courier - are you shitting with me? Postal?"

The start of the sentence was so convincing that Rahim almost bought his assumption until the disappointed frown and hands on hips from Jack sunk his head further into his shoulders like a panic-struck duck.

"It was a bunch of odd jobs together but I was a negotiator most of my time." Jack visibly dodged his curiosity with a 'second' right words for her old career. "My partner was the main specialist in our duo."

"Sounds like you had some shady job when you put it that way."

"Heh. Ain't all jobs shady with their corporate bosses cutting corners? Our line of work was the same. With some favorable perks."

"Like what?"

A chuckle. "Sightseeing, for one thing. Get to see all the landmarks and beautiful trinkets up close. Another was the memories. Ahaha..." Jack's hazel eyes drifted back down to the photo. "We made a very good team together. Indestructible, she'd say…"

It was rather cool - seeing someone recall a past but didn't go further into the details. It left Rahim open to ideas in order to fill the holes. However, he noted the furrowed eyebrows on her.

She wasn't just nostalgic.

"Until making a living wasn't enough…and our choices caught up to us. Even when it was already too late."

The somber face of Mad Jack did make him pick at the little clues but Rahim didn't dare ask for the answers. This time, he didn't let the interest get the better of him.

Except for one question.

"What's her name?"

Jack's fingers tightened on the photo frame. That bitterness was enough to bite through her metaphorical shield over her heart. It'd be a mortal sin if she were to forget her name.

Even though Jack was in complete reminiscence, she didn't react to the sharp, growing, ringing in her ears.

"Her name-"

And the dream shattered at the peak of the sharp sound.

 ** _BAM!_**

A body slumped to the concrete ground. The smell of gunpowder overpowered the senses. For a second, Crane couldn't recognize where he was or who had died right in front of him. Was this a warehouse?

Then the second was gone and his new surroundings 'malfunctioned' on him. They suddenly became 'familiar' to him. Ancient artifacts were displayed around him and the walls were built like a fortress.

The young woman with her neck broken, her eyes bloodied and her body changing laid on the battle-stricken floor.

"No, no!" Crane hollered. Not again! Not this memory!

Still, his feet ran for him. Even when the whole world was shifting - changing - he hurried over to her. This was a dream, wasn't it? Stop it!

Let him try and save her!

But when he reached to her, to Jade Aldemir, it changed again. Jade wasn't there anymore - the big woman with the bob haircut was in her place. His claws didn't appear. Slender hands did, rolling the other lady over to expose the gunshot in her chest and the redness bleeding across her clean white shirt. No trace of infection.

Two memories were clashing together. They overlapped like glitches in a matrix system. They didn't match but they resembled so similarly in comparison. Jade on the strange woman's spot, arms splayed out. The woman in Jade's spot on the warehouse floor.

And Crane wasn't Crane anymore. He was watching through someone else's eyes.

He could hear Jack's voice somewhere. Or did it come from his mouth? She was pleading, begging for the other woman to get up, her hands caressing the dead her pale cheeks as big tears dropped down onto dead, cold almond eyes.

The name of the big woman was audibly redacted. Again and again. And again.

"Didn't I tell you?"

Crane spun up to see to the stranger's voice.

That wasn't Rais. The place around wasn't the museum. The floor wasn't littered with broken glass and spent bullet shells. The living dead bodies weren't around - he was surrounded by the kind of guys hired to soil their hands for another. All for a high payroll.

One of them stood out differently. The lithe-built, tanned man wore the expensive suit, the leather loafers, and his sleek bad-guy jacket draped over his shoulders - hair gel oiled back his pompadour style. He had all the reads over him: he was untouchable. Unbreakable. The bad guy who could get away with anything but not with Rais' methods.

Not even Jack could stop him.

Crane recognized his face. Only on the papers and in the news three years ago.

In the dapper man's hand was a revolver, smoke seeping from the barrel. He kneeled down to her level and said with a cruel, cold beam.

"I own you, Jack."

The gun pointed blank at Crane's head.

 ** _BAM!_**

"Gah!" And he gasped loudly, bolting up from the floor. Sweat tinkled down his temple as he shot his zombie gaze around. For that man with the revolver. For that second woman and for Jack.

But he was all alone.

* * *

A/N: Hello all! Back into another chp, and shockingly, this is probably my longest so far. A LOT OF WORLD BUILDING WAS PUT INTO THIS, especially Rahim. What slowly made him become the Rahim we know from the game. There's gonna be more, the more dreams Crane gets btw - how one person from their pasts shaped Jade and Rahim before the outbreak. We didn't really get a lot of that character development except a few hints here and there. I wasn't and am still unsure how old Rahim would be but I kinda picture he's probably a latecomer to going for college and that before the outbreak, he was like anyone of us who wasn't sure what to do with their lives, added his mother was sick. Thanks to "Akira Namikaze", one of my readers, for clarification on that postcard Rahim had in game - that did make me think he could have chosen a college in USA or for any other reason. Which is actually what helped me shape the dream up, that he was just a young kid trying to find a place in the world while worrying about his family and he consulted it with Jack (really, Rahim? You could have talked to Harris instead).

Another major point in character development is also Jack. The one thing I do like about types of characters are characters who can be villains even when their actions are for the good. You see the moral dilemma there and how they overcome that trial in themselves. It's that case I see for Jack that while to everyone, she used to be a legend that people praised but that didn't mean she didn't have skeletons hidden in the closet. In a way, her past self will be an interesting insight for Crane to learn and have his trust on her put to the test because he has a hard time seeing the same evil in most people like Rais and the Mother. And how Jack will make it different for him, now that's gonna be the fun part of writing for me.

That's also referring to her blood. It's not a cure, it's a poison but that doesn't mean she always has deliberately used it on the zombies. I have ideas how her perk never goes her way and Lina's death was one of them (rest her soul now). And that a familiar face dead by her blood is going to affect her.

Also, a fun fact. That lullaby, I made it up. REALLY am never good at these sort of things but boy, it took a while. I think I managed to finalize it thanks to other inspiring songs and that typical song "Hush, baby". And it gave a new idea - that if in game, Jack can softly sing this to calm a Screamer so she could be close enough to shut it without a cloak potion.

And why did I say this when you can just shoot a Screamer with a bolt? Because in DL, two Screamers were damn horrible. One was in three quests overlapped together that it made it harder to find the damn Screamer in total darkness AND with their waveforms. And the second was bloody inside a house in the Following that for some reason MADE IT EVEN HARDER FOR ME AND MY FRIEND TO GET IN!

So yeah, just have a person like Jack sing a lullaby so I don't have to go through that again. Anyhow, the lullaby's tone is kinda sung like the beat from

Gabrielle Aplin's Run For Cover but a bit sadder. I wanted the lullaby to be like there was going to be a bleak ending to the singer, even though, hope was coming. And yeah, the lyrics took some inspiration to DL's whole situation. The monsters, sun, etc.

Now, with that, the end of my author's note. I hope you enjoyed this bittersweet, emotion-jam-packed chapter. It'll be a while longer as the next chp is still in drafts here and there. Cya again!

Edit: I will be trying to change the ending thanks to a feedback on how confusing it was. I'm not too sure how but it did come to my attention it wasn't too clear on that. I apologise if the ending came out like that so please look out for the new changes (as best as I can figure out).


	18. SIXTEEN: HERETIC

**SIXTEEN: HERETIC**

* * *

Crane breathed. In and out, in and out, in and out. Hurriedly, he patted himself down, searching for where the bullet hit him.

Nothing on this zombie body.

He swallowed. Dear god, that dream was just...too real. His heart was pounding inside his chest like a loud train. It was like he wore someone else's shoes. But those shoes couldn't decide if they wanted to stay with him or not.

For a minute, he almost couldn't believe he had gotten out of the dream. But the room was evidence to him: Crane was still in Scanderoon, not in some unknown warehouse or…

Back in Harran, at the museum atrium.

It was over. His mind was in the present, not the past. And Crane plopped back into his bed as he tried to calm his nerves down.

Shit, what was going on with his head? Could everything stop going whacky on him? He already had enough dealing with Jack and her loony ways. And straight away, he blamed this virus. He blamed his change. He was perfectly fine and mental before heading to the Countryside.

However, this time, he didn't ditch away from the dream like the previous ones. Third time a charm so it couldn't be a coincidence his mind was making things up about Jack. But was it even true? He was trying to grasp at straws for the certitudes from dreams, _dreams!_ That was on the road to being a madman.

Then again, who said he wasn't already at the finishing line?

There was no point in a guessing game. And there wasn't any point to asking that woman up front. She'd think "oh sure, this talking zombie _can bloody read minds_ " and would probably punch the undead shit out of him. This was like...some intrusive thing, right? Digging out dark secrets inside someone's head.

So, as he guessed, the best course of action was not to do anything. Again.

"Why the fuck am I still alive?" he mumbled to himself.

Crane peered up to the ceiling of his makeshift room - one of the floors of an apartment some streets away from the Cicadas' demolished base. They were up all night and he could tell from Jack's unsteady walk that she needed sleep. The toll from last night really got to her, added with what happened at the orphanage.

Right. Since he couldn't do any analyzing with the dream, he might as well check on her. He fought against his body's need to steer away from daylight, before shoving his cupboard-barricade from the broken front door.

The Sea Ville Apartments was...reasonably better compared to the original state of the Sunny Apartments back in Harran. Before the outbreak. There was a big pool...that clumsy zombies tripped into and drowned instantly. But this place almost mirrored those apartments in several ways: where the rooftop couldn't be accessed with the top stairways blocked off by furniture and some floors were crawling with the remaining residents who refused to leave - only to succumb to the virus.

Crane crept up the fire escape from his floor, all the way to the top, where a safe zone was turned active hours ago.

"-it's nothing."

He saw her highlighted body before he heard Jack's voice. She sat on top of the small safe house, fingers to the comm piece in her ear.

"And no. I have been taking them…" Jack squeezed the bridge of her nose, as if trying to dull out a headache. "I just haven't been sleeping much these past few nights. All because of these bloody damn dreams."

" _Dreams? What sort of dreams?_ " The voice on the other side beat Crane to the punch on that thought.

Quietly, just as sneakily as a Volatile, he joined up on the little stairway house. Jack didn't hear or sense him right behind her but then again, the discourse grasped at her attention more than noticing his presence.

"Just...things from the past. Nothing big. Feels like my head's splitting open though."

" _But you_ ** _are_** _taking them, right?_ "

"Yes, Bones. I have. Every time. I'm not _that_ forgetful."

He didn't want to disturb her, even though, seriously, Kyle, he was being a creep. He knew it and hated it. Before he decided to drop down, he spotted an open sketchbook and pencil beside Jack.

Crane picked it up gently. Huh, these are good, he thought. Never imagined that the wild firecracker was an artist. But what got his pique was the drawings themselves.

Infected. They were drawings of the biters and goons he and Jack had faced these past few days, of the monsters he had seen since Day 1. All in good details. It was a different style compared to that he saw in the black sketchbook, from the dream - like a scientist jolting down every single detail of a newly-discovered animal or plant from the jungle. Not like one of those graphic street artists.

He turned back to the previous pages and immediately frowned at one of them. " _That's one ugly motherfucker. Hope I never meet his kind._ "

The infected type wasn't something he had faced before. At first glance, it kinda looked like a Night Hunter - the kind he had barely escaped a few times when human. Yet there were features that said Volatile. The right mandible of the jaw and the bone spurs along the arms were evidence. What kept the left jaw in place was whatever tissue of the mouth still attached to it. The right had some flesh underneath to the bottom of the throat from the looks of it, that helped it from coming out.

Basically, if a Night Hunter and a Volatile had a baby.

The only one "good" thing Jack had written about this thing was the eyes. A pair of 'soulful', 'sad' eyes. Nothing further in meaning and Crane didn't get the punchline there - if there was one. All he could guess what she meant was some poetic bullshit: that the soul was still trapped behind those inhuman eyes, unable to scream out for help as he watched his own hands take another life. All for the sake of having prey.

Yeah, no. He disagreed with the notes there. That zombie was fucking ugly, Crane thought.

Until he read the heading at the bottom of the page. "Freakoid". Bolded and underlined by pencil.

" _Wait a minute._ " It prompted him to touch his mouth, feeling something on his right loose and yet set back in place like a jigsaw puzzle.

" _Then...could they got anything to do with, you know, the virus, or-?_ "

"No, no. Neither… Just...never really thought that they'd be so vivid…" The sentence just trailed off but it caught Crane's attention.

" _Jack?_ "

"Nothing. Nothing." Despite looking like she received fewer answers and more questions from the deducting conversation, Jack leaped onto the next question. "Has Asem picked up anything on the Tower? It is nearly 48 hours now."

" _No news yet. We got a trail but it ended up heading to one of the blocked tunnels._ "

"Hm… No way Harris would risk anyone going through those places."

" _Yeah. Those are Volatile grounds. We're still looking. You know us. We are the Ravs._ "

"I know. We are the Ravs," she cheered. Unhappily.

" _You're still not planning to go the Harran, right?_ "

"Of course not." Jack gestured her hand in small air circles. "I'veee...not decided. Just want to be sure, that's all."

" _I know. Just give Asem time. She'll find them._ "

"Yeah, yeah…"

Crane's frown thinned tightly. There it went again, his heartstrings being pulled. God, GRE was right. He was too soft. But he felt the same as Jack did - the Tower was still missing.

Where in Harran were they?

" _For now, focus on the mission. You should also go check back on that building. There might be a clue to finding us a candidate._ "

"That's the plan for today."

Then he spotted the peek behind the sports shade. Jack had glanced back.

Oh shit. She saw him with her book. But before he could say anything, or try to pretend "yeah, I picked this up. It's yours, right? I didn't read it", Jack just continued on with her conversation.

"Freakoid's here," she said to the other guy on the line. "So should we get this started then?"

" _Sure. Before Asem heads out. Hang on._ "

The comm talk was over and Jack climbed up onto her feet with an unreadable expression to Freakoid.

" _Uh, I...this was on the floor, and-_ "

"Heh," was an honest, soft laugh. "What? Hard to believe that I have other talents besides boxing?"

" _Well, these are good. I won't deny that,_ " Crane admitted, handing over the sketchbook to the open hand gestured by her.

"That's because I had a good teacher," she said proudly. Nostalgically. "Loudmouth. But once you get him to focus on something, he really goes all out on the topic."

Again, the painful needle poke in him. It was bitter. Did she have to talk about Rahim again? Though he did agree with one thing. Rahim was a loudmouth.

He quickly ushered out something, just to shake off the anguish. " _When did you even have time to do those drawings?_ "

"Whenever we weren't running for our lives. It's much safer than using your phone camera on a moving zombie after your neck. By the way, set your comms to Channel 3," she chided as she put away her small notebook.

" _What for?_ " he asked casually.

"Our boss wants to talk to you."

Oh.

Ooooh-oh, no, total no. Nuh-nuh. Nope. Nada.

Every goddamn time he talked to someone in an authority position, it'd always go wrong. His fucking command, Noria Ash? Told him to burn that crate of Antizin. Made contact with Rias and what did that get him? A whole load of bullshit morals and pain. Tried to make a reputation in order to reach apostle rank in the Faceless cult just to talk to the Mother? Crane became like _this!_

So no, not dealing with this again!

" _Yeah, you know what? I got some chores to do. You know, a, a zombie thing. Really important zombie stuff so I'm gonna skip this call-_ "

"You can't keep running away," Jack said disappointedly. "You're the one who spoke out back at the hotel."

" _Well… I mean… Hey, your radio guy started it._ "

Jack simply rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. She was surrounded by children. "If you have a complaint with how someone does their job, then take it up to them. I'm not the feedback box here."

" _No way. I ain't showing anyone how I look like._ " Especially after seeing that drawing of himself. Also, he wasn't that big! " _Or talking to anyone. You freaked out when you heard my voice over the comms._ "

"Where did that confidence from yesterday go? You were doing so well too."

" _When that guy at the Orphanage screamed at me._ "

"So? He didn't shoot you," she chided. "First test to seeing how well everyone takes you and you passed with flying colors."

" _You mean how well they can take a monster or a circus freakshow._ "

What a whiner, Jack thought but zipped those words behind sealed lips. "Freakoid, there's a time and place to be crawling into your hole because you're not one of the cool kids anymore."

There were so many points in that sentence Crane wanted to attack and demolish down. " _Oh shaddup! I'm not-_ "

"Let me finish. I told you before that you're the biggest mystery behind this virus. And Asem wants to know what we're dealing with."

" _Asem being your leader, right?_ " All the lights in his head were lit up red. " _Yeah, no. I've met enough people at the top of the food chain to know where this is going._ "

"Did you have a thing against authority or something?"

" _Sure. When they're being a pain in my ass._ "

"You're quick to judge. You haven't even met Asem yet. And she doesn't know you either. That's what this call is for."

" _Yeah. Sure. Does your whole faction know you're running around with a sentient zombie who could actually kill you at any moment?_ "

"Oh, sure. The whole group knows about you," Jack said without any hesitation. At first, he took it as a joke. After all, what he said was sarcasm. "I had to report back every now and then."

NOT WHAT HE WANTED TO HEAR!

"But three-quarter thinks you're a figment of my imagination, 20 percent of that quarter assumes you're just some human nutjob who really believes he is a zombie and the rest actually buys the whole talking infected gig."

Refrain from struggling her neck, Kyle. Stop yourself from doing it, Crane hollered in his head as he used every ounce of energy to control his claws from grabbing her.

" _What about you? You're also a damn mystery with your weird blood poison!_ "

"Repeat that sentence again, Freakoid. It's poison. Not a cure. I've already gone through every single test imaginable before I took this field trip."

Crane glared at her. He tried to think of a comeback, anything to get himself out of this situation. But watching her stand like she was the bigger adult between them was making him mess up his words. Hands on hips and looking all like "I already did the pain so stop your complaining and grow a pair."

Crane tried, thinking with broken back talks. Along the lines of "Well, you're not like a freak monster like me!" or "I still have rights not to be pricked with needles!" or, or...

He got nothing out of his mouth. He couldn't win this argument.

"Look. You're part of the Ravs now. And it's a formality that we trust each other. You rub our backs and we rub your...scaly, bony, back. Thingie."

Ok, he'd let that one slip. " _Hang on. You're the one who decided to make me a Rav member. That didn't mean I agreed with joining you guys._ "

"Oh, c'mon. I don't know what you went through but it can't be as bad as the hazing at Harran University. Which was basically reciting the school's plaque in their underwears while putting a horse mask on Benedict the Great's head in broad daylight."

" _What?_ "

"Dunno. That's what the grads told me. Must be a college thing."

" _And you...you did that when you first joined the Ravs?_ "

"Of course not. The horseman statue is in the middle of Old Town. We were stuck in the Outskirts for more than a month."

" _Oh._ "

"However, for my initiation, I had to play "the floor is lava" game. Basically, some of the members wanted me to go up on the rooftops at night and push three Biters off. Together. At once. Without stopping," Jack said displeasingly. "For anything."

" _Yikes._ "

"Yes. And the guy who did the hazing had to give up his quartermaster position to someone more capable and empathic for the job. That was after Asem found out."

" _What **is** your group? A daycare center? _"

"Feels that way every, single, day," she groaned through clenched teeth. "If anything, this outing is the excuse I needed to get out of the base."

" _Jack,_ " called the voice on the other end of her comms. " _She's here._ "

"Roger," she said to the radio guy and with a signal that said she was passing the stage over to Crane, she exclaimed, "All yours, Freakoid. Behave yourself."

Behave. Oh sure.

He held down a long, demotivating groan as the brunette walked away to give him his space. Right back into the same swing of things, even when he said no and gave the metaphorical finger to the world. He'd behave, alright, and that was if this Rav leader wouldn't tick him off.

" _This is Asem,_ " said the other line. A woman's voice, and there was a native tongue to it. Perhaps someone who spent her entire life in this country. " _I presume you're Freakoid?_ "

" _Oh, I'm gonna regret this._ " He cleared his voice - hoping that would make it less hoarse than the usual - before he gave one deep sigh...and spoke bitterly. "...Yes. This is me speaking."

There was a moment of pause. Yup, the bold captain of the Ravs was stunned to hear his voice. And Crane anticipated this woman wouldn't want anything to do with talking to a freak like him.

" _Hm. Not what I expected. Bones made it sound like he was hearing a Volatile on the other end._ "

Well, that was anti-climax. But that told him this woman was going to stay. Which was super, another person likeJack. "Yeah, and I can just leave right now. I don't need this treatment."

" _Rash and headstrong. Now I see why Jack took a liking to you._ "

"Wait a second, back up. What do you mean 'a liking'?" Now he wasn't too sure how to take that compliment. Should he be afraid?

" _Still, beggars can't be choosers…_ " For which side? Her faction or him? " _Jack has already informed us about your...state of mind._ "

"That's rather a light thing to say about me."

" _Believe me when I say this. We've already seen a lot to know that this outbreak isn't normal._ "

"Well, of course. The dead shouldn't walk."

" _And neither should something turned come back right in their head. Which begs the question: are you going to be a threat, or something more?_ "

"Only if someone is a threat to me," he murmured softly and angrily. "Or do you think I'll be a lot worse than anything you've faced? Because I can."

" _I meant the latter with good intention. Even men draw their guns on us._ " Nothing continued for a while, as if she was thinking over the choices given to her. Which was few. So she took the chance. " _Alright. Jack does have a better judgment on people than most of us._ "

"Better judgment?" He hollered, catching Jack's attention - she hunched up an eyebrow at his sudden outburst. Crane quickly turned away and hushed his voice a little. "I'm sorry but are all you Ravs people crazy?! You're putting your fate on one woman! Who's also crazy!"

" _Hm-hm._ " It was a laugh. A genuine soft chuckle. " _The fact even you don't believe she has good assessment skills tells me she "rubbed off" on you... Good._ "

Crane couldn't believe his sensitive ears. Maybe he was right about this group being cuckoo in the head.

"Good? What do you mean good? Am I missing something here?"

" _When Jack informed us she had found a sentient infected, we had thought she had lost it. Until Bones vouched for her. I did have my skepticism about you. But...you've changed my mind. A little but enough to know where you stand._ "

"And where is that exactly?" Kyle scorned.

 _"That you're not a threat. When you've worked with Jack for as long as we have, you'll learn how she operates. And the fact you've stayed this long means you can tolerate her._ "

"Actually, I'm pretty close to the threshold around her."

" _Hm. You're not alone there. However, a friend of Jack is a friend of the Ravs._ "

"You really don't see how bad this is, right? Again, infected, ready to tear a human limb from limb?"

" _And have you yet?_ " she asked.

"Uh… No?" He hoped he hadn't. The thought of having eaten human flesh still stuck into the deep fibres of his gray matter. And he tried to shove it deeper. Don't think about it.

" _Then I have every bit of confidence she'll be fine with you. Or she kills you if you snap._ "

"Oh. Joy," he grumbled sarcastically. "My fate in her hands. Do I have any other choices?"

" _None of us have any better choices. We take what we are given,"_ the leader said mindfully. " _Now that we're done with introductions, I have a request for you._ "

Oh, suurrre, here we go again. "There's always a catch," he growled. A literal growl of an animal. Didn't matter if the change in his voice reflected more of his true nature. Let this boss woman know he wasn't some 'pet'.

" _I am not asking for your loyalty,_ " the woman said firmly and went straight into business. " _I want you to look out for Jack._ "

The anger inside Crane's throat quenched down at the unusual air behind that offer. Wait, babysitting?

Ok. That was a very different kind of request compared to the hundreds he had gotten.

Asem might not be in front of him to show her expressions, to sell that request off as a joke. All he had was the genuineness behind the words. And she continued on. " _She had already told you what this project is, yes?_ "

"Yeah. Something about testing her poison blood on special infected?"

" _Correct. A little disappointed at her for failing to keep this a secret. But...maybe it's better if it isn't a human who knows about it._ "

"Again. Can just leave. And what's wrong if she tells someone this big secret of yours?"

" _Because nobody outside the Ravs is supposed to know about Jack's capability. A person capable of having poisonous blood to those infected with the Harran virus, how do you think people will react to that?_ "

"They'd think it's a cure," he started and slowly made the connection. "And they'll kill just to get her."

" _We've had a riot when we first made this discovery. That's why we need to keep this under wraps._ "

A riot. Crane could imagine how that went. If anyone back at the Tower just found out they had poisonous blood, it could lead to an internal fall. Some would see that person as a threat, others think they were a weapon, some a possible cure.

" _This is a poison…_ "

He replayed the Mother's words in his head distastefully. Still, ironic for another type of 'poison' to be on two legs and punching zombies.

It did bring out another question he had.

Exactly where did Jack get this perk? And for the Ravs to just let her go off on her own with such a valuable ability...

"Well, I hate to break it to you but sending out your only lead to do the job isn't really clever."

" _And what other choice do we have? None of us are fit or can spare time on this mission. And Jack is only a recruit. She has a long way to go._ "

"Hold on." He nearly raised his voice again. "She _just_ joined the Ravs?"

" _Yes. Last week._ "

Crane groaned loudly, putting a claw on his face in dismay. What - Who - what a self-centered, inconsiderate, jackass she was! Literally! Jack made it sound like she was one of the confidants under this Asem woman. Now he was finding out she was just as a new recruit as he was?! She was as bad as Rahim when he first met him!

"Not a lot of good choices, huh?" he asked weakly.

" _Only with what we are given_ ," Asem stated again. How the hell could she be so calm in the middle of the outbreak? And with talking to him? " _She did ask to take this mission._ "

"Wait, she asked for this?" Actually, he believed that. "Eh, yeah. She would."

" _Believe me when I say we've tried looking for other people to help Bones do his project. But she did give us good points as to why it should be her and her alone. She's more capable than anyone of us here. And she has her blood. There's nobody better we trust than her._ "

"Then why the request?"

" _Jack likes to wander off and do all sorts of jobs instead of focusing on one thing at a time. She has good intention but we really need this project going smoothly._ "

"Then you really should have gotten someone else to do the job for you," he mumbled.

" _Maybe. Unless you think you can do it better than her?_ "

"I...couldn't." Almost, he almost boldly said he could. Jack was still checking him out now and then with every glance over the shoulder. "I don't have poisonous blood. I only have this...body."

" _And you have your mind. That's better than nothing._ "

He tightened a fist into a ball. Was that really enough? No sane person would really believe someone like him, no, something like him could still stay a human inside an infected.

" _Jack did say you're a very doubtful person._ "

Crane scoffed. "Well, when you're in my shoes, anyone would be. You...you don't know what's it's like. Being like...this."

" _On the contrary, I know more about how you feel than you think._ "

Oh, please. He rolled his eyes. Like anyone would know. How about sticking it up your ass-

" _I have learned one thing from this conversation._ _That for an infected like you, you are more clear-minded than Jack is._ "

That stopped Crane from saying his sentence out loud on the comms.

Clear-minded? Well...actually, he did have that one moment of weakness and nearly cracked down. If anything, Jack was the stupid, stubborn one stopping him from fleeing deeper into the sewage system. But that wasn't clear-minded. Jack grabbed him on impulse. And at the dam, at the dock, at the GRE outpost, she had always jumped before thinking. Like a dog off its chain.

And what did that tell about him? He had been trying to leash down his other self since his awakening - the zombie side of Crane.

Now that he thought more on the conversation, he got a bit of an idea behind this Asem person. Good at picking up traits from just words - she didn't have any way of seeing just how horrible he looked but only by words did she get some picture of who he was. She wasn't dealing with a gun-trigger thug, or a brainless baboon, or any of the Viral. She understood, all based on what Jack told her.

Jack was that important catalyst for her to make the decision about him.

...What a terrifying woman. She was as manipulative as the Mother but on a whole different scale. Maybe as bad as Agent Ash. He's got to be careful around this one.

" _So,_ " Asem started, Crane picturing this boss trying to act like...well, his GRE boss - 'are you up to the task or am I going to hire someone else to do it?', that kind of talks. " _Are you really what Jack said you are? Can I trust you with_ ** _her_** _life?_ "

"You're asking a lot from an infected."

" _And yet Jack has a lot of faith than you do on yourself._ "

"Really? That's flattering. I'm pretty sure she has so much confidence in her own blood that I won't kill her. Maybe too much."

Another laugh. " _That's Jack for you._ _And that's why I'm asking someone outside our Ravs to look after her._ " There was a hint there, seeping out of a crack Asem let shown - remorse. " _We had already lost her once._ "

The hanging reminiscence made Crane peek at the corner of his eyes. Jack had been waiting during this entire conversation, only hearing his one-sided responses and probably trying to piece it all together. But never once did she interrupt the talk - she pretty much got bored and sat at the edge of the rooftop, her head resting on her knee.

Asem had to be referring to the days Jack got her perk, at the loss of her memory. And it was fatal enough for a whole group to worry about her.

Oh, for god's sake, Kyle. Stop being so soft!

But he was going to regret this anyway. "Yeah, she told me about it." With a heavy sigh, Crane exclaimed, "There aren't a lot of options here."

" _None that we found._ "

Only what they had right now and that was something Crane knew all too well in his line of work. All one could do was adapt with what they got.

"...Sure. We have a deal. I'll help her with the project."

" _Good. One more thing._ " Of course, this was _another_ needy group. " _You've probably heard of her reputation as Mad Jack._ _She has a tendency to go off on a tangent now and then."_

"Ok. So it's not just me."

Crane could have sworn Jack heard that last part of the discussion. Oh, god, he was unintentionally welcoming a punch from her. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it caught up on her so he inched a couple more steps away from her - just to be safe.

" _Jack's skills as a kickboxer has always been formidable. But she can push her body too far without thinking._ "

"Sooo...what are you asking from me?" he asked confusedly.

" _What I want from you is... Make sure she doesn't go berserk._ "

Berserk? Was she really asking the right person for that job? "Really? I think it should be the other way around-"

" _I mean it._ "

That next statement caught him by surprise. Just what kind of history did the ex-kickboxer have? Perhaps enough to make even this other woman, a leader too, worried. However, that did show another side behind this boss.

It was still on first impression and the more he'd learn about Asem, the more he would get her true colors. However, right on the get-go, she wasn't as heartless as Rias to abandon all his men or devious like the Mother to put the wool over the eyes of her sheep under a pointless, deceiving doctrine.

Asem reminded him of Jasir...if Jasir was a military man and not a farmer.

"I… Sure. You got my word."

" _Thank you, Frea-_ " She stopped and cleared her voice. " _What should I call you?_ "

"You were gonna say that stupid nickname Jack calls me," he grumbled.

" _That's all she's been calling you since the start._ "

He facepalmed. "Of course she would."

" _If it's bothersome, then you might as well tell us your name. You were a human once._ "

Human. Yes. He had a past, a name.

"It's…"

But saying those two words was difficult. Something in the pit of his stomach wanted to say it. The rest of him wanted to strangle it so it couldn't speak out. His name was nothing but a reminder.

Play the amnesiac, dummy.

"It's nothing," he explained. "I don't remember my real name."

Only silence stayed over the line for more than a minute. He almost thought Asem didn't buy it - he couldn't underestimate her.

" _Hm. How unfortunate._ "

And that ended the chat.

Yeah. Real unfortunate. He couldn't agree more with the Rav leader. Everything about him since he arrived in Harran had been unfortunate. An irritating itch made him clutch his sharp teeth so tightly.

He wanted to bury that man, Kyle Crane, as deep as possible into the ground. Because that coward was dead.

He was supposed to be dead. And he should stay dead.

Crane wasn't a hero anymore.

But fate was a bitch and had other plans for him, he supposed.

"So what did our mother hen say about me?"

And just like that, that heavy, cocky accent broke the stiff, grim air that disgustingly gripped tight to his hardened skin. Up she had jumped from her spot, ready and railing to get back to work now that the call was over. It was like Jack was Jack herself again…

The self-centered, inconsiderate, jackass Crane had been regretfully working with.

"Pretty sure she had a lot to nasty things to say about my attitude," Jack chided.

" _Mother hen?_ "

"We pretty much call her that. If it weren't for her, we'd be lost little chicks getting eaten by the rabid infected zombies."

"Ugh."

"What? Chicks get eaten all the time. Nothing to get grossed out over."

" _It isn't that. It's the fact you're calling your boss 'mother'._ " If this group becomes another Faceless cult, he was leaving. " _Already been there, done the whole raising up the ranks for a crazed prophetess that calls herself 'the Mother'._ "

"Asem has a kid. A thirteen-year-old son. She's just a little protective. Not just to her family but the Ravs."

" _Oh._ " Ok, now he made this awkward. He had only himself to blame.

"Sounds like the last group you worked for were all eccentrics. We just call her Asem," Jack continued on, completely impregnable to the discomfort Crane just put flat out between them. "No need for special titles in the Ravs. So now you're officially assigned to Bones' pet project, I guess I should give you the detailed rundown. We need to find four infected candidates to test my blood against and get samples from them."

Yeah, get back to work. That would take his mind off what he just said. " _Ok. Well, you got a lot of choices around you._ "

"Whoa, hold on there, cowboy. It can't be any Tom, Dick, Harry. The candidate needs to build resistance to the blood. And most types we've come across don't stay alive long enough. And others don't even bite."

" _Hm. That is true. So...what can be a candidate?_ "

"Well, Bones is very particular about this candidate's winning points but...from what we've discussed before, he said it has to be someone like," she trailed off, glancing back to Crane. "You."

" _Oh… So, do I need to give a blood donation or-_ "

Jack chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself. You were our first choice for candidate until...you started talking to me. And the idea of being your nurse kinda give me the willies."

" _Yeah, that also gives me the chills._ "

"Also I don't do well with syringes. Sure, use them as a weapon and stab people with them, I can. But drawing blood, from a human being or a talking zombie, eh, no bloody thanks. I'll leave that to Bones if we ever get to the Outskirts."

Well, there was reassuring. He was already committed to not become a test subject. " _That can't be your only reason._ "

"Bones said you might not entirely be building a resistance. Not after the second bite you took off me."

" _What does that mean?_ "

"It means, and in his own words, you're a different case. And he doesn't want a greenhorn like me in case I hurt the merchandise's feelings." And the Freakoid gruffed angrily at the affront. "You're off-limits until Bones has you take a rundown at his lab. And that's on your consent, by the way."

" _So your radio boy is also the one looking into this virus? Wow, ok, you Ravs really are thin in numbers_."

"He was taking a second major at the university. And he's not a member. Can't see that boy taking action from anything other than a petri dish. But he's brilliant. Like his uncle, I've heard."

" _Brilliant. Ok. But yaps a lot_ _._ "

"What do you expect from college students? They never shut up about their favorite topics."

" _Yeah, I wonder if they had some influence there,_ " Crane mumbled, eyeing dead-on at Jack.

"From what?"

" _Oh, nothing. Nothing… No other better choices, only what we are given,_ " he repeated the Rav leader's words.

"Well, it's better than none," Jack pointed, waving out her arms. He had to agree with her there. "And if Bones' project does give something fruitful, maybe we can finally stop this virus for good."

" _Alright. Alright. Might as well go on a wild goose chase,_ " he only said that to stop hearing how hopeful she was trying. It just made him sick. " _But we don't have a long list._ "

"Already a list? So you have some ideas?"

" _Not...really. A rare type of Biter?_ "

"A scrub? Now you're just insulting me."

Boy, was this woman making it difficult for him. Let him recall back his list of things to do: he had to help her find specials and put her blood into their bodies without them trying to kill her. While he'd keep an eye on her.

Was this what they called a paradox?

" _Ok. A Demolisher?_ " Crane just picked what could be a bigger threat since she just looooved a challenge.

"Eh. Promising. That's if we can stop it from stomping us."

" _Alright. How about that Watcher?_ "

Jack glanced out wide eyes as her shades slipped down the bridge of her nose. He set the bar quite high there. "Ok, that's a little _too_ risky. The Ravs haven't been able to get close to one for us to test it. Alive."

" _Fair enough. Our last run-in with one wasn't what I would call fun… Yeah, I've got nothing._ "

Mad Jack smirked. It was that confident, catty grin again - that she already knew where her next goal was before Crane could make plans.

"But I might have a lead. Follow me."

And off she went, off two floors of the apartment and onto a balcony before heading inside. No explanation at all.

Ugh...this was going to be a long day, Crane thought. And he went to take the quicker way down.

It took about half the time Jack needed to rest the apartment's exit. Freakoid was patiently waiting by sitting obnoxiously on the bent-up car parked outside. 'What a showoff' was what the brunette thought off, clearly plastered right on her face and he was fine with letting her think that. That was when Jack noticed something down the road. It stared back at the odd couple with its bright brown eyes.

"Well, that's a rare sight."

Once Crane saw the object of her interest, he understood her surprise. When he first came to Harran, there was never any sight of its kind or any other four-legged critters. Animals and pets were probably eaten up by the infected after all but that was just a guess. Kyle did see a few back in the Countryside with their guts cut open.

Not ripped out by claws. A strange detail he noticed but never thought more on it.

" _A dog. I thought all the strays were gone._ "

"Come here," Jack cooed to the big dog. Didn't seem like the animal was a particular breed but she had seen all sorts of mutts back in Harran. In this country, their stray population was one sad example of how bad humanity can be before the outbreak. Of course, these dogs were clever in surviving and avoiding the dogcatchers.

So she knew this one wouldn't be easily coaxed by her soft, kind voice. Its bushy tail did wave but the dog was obviously cautious at Freakoid - its dropped ears perked back at his presence.

" _Yeah...I don't think it likes me. Too bad. I'm pretty much a dog lover._ "

"Might not entirely be a stray. See that ear tag? Had been taken by animal welfare. And...there's a collar. An odd-looking one."

Around the neck of the dog didn't look standard. If she had to guess, it looked like a tracking device.

"Animal welfare? So he escaped from a shelter?"

"It's a bitch," Jack corrected him. "Stray dogs are a huge problem in this country and too few shelters can keep them. Only way around it to is to capture them, give them their shots, all the works and let them go. That's what the ear tag's for."

" _Huh._ "

"Don't be too worried about them. Dogs in this country are smart critters. They've lived off the land without needing people." She stood back up. "Still, this dog might actually have an owner to have that tracker on her."

The collared dog eventually grew bored of the two, well, bored at Jack and still wary at Crane. A human walking around in the middle of a street full of walkers would instantly flee for shelter. Yet an animal like her just trotted about like it was just a normal Scanderoon day. And that was what the mutt did - trotting away and out of the duo's sight.

"Guess even in a harsh situation like this city, life finds a way."

" _Really?_ "

She didn't get why Freakoid said that. "What?" Jack uttered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Crane simply shook his head at the reference she had to pull out. She really was full of surprises.

"Still odd about the dogs though."

" _What's odd? It's just a dog._ "

"Bones told me that this outbreak was because of a rabies mutation. Funny thing is I didn't hear reports of any dog attacks when the virus hit Harran."

" _And how's that a concern?_ "

"Old concern, actually. It's already too late with this epidemic out. But Bones did bring out some good points. Humans don't immediately get transmitted with viral diseases as quickly as this Harran virus. Usually, it starts with something small. Pigs for influenza, birds for bird flu, and bats and canines for rabies. And there weren't any sign of infected animals before this virus came out."

Whoa, ok, he bought that this ex-champion had other talents but stuff on viruses? " _How do you know all this?_ "

"I'm just repeating what my Rav friend said. He knows a bit about virology. And that viruses are supposed to jump on new hosts, not evolve. Which this Harran virus is doing."

" _It skipped the appetizer and went straight for the main course,_ " Crane continued that train of thought.

"Not by natural causes, that's for sure. Bones thinks it's man-made."

" _Ok, I actually buy that,_ " he muffled softly to himself. He did discover a hidden military facility that originally contained that blue stuff. The details behind the virus' origin were vague - other than that one dead end about it coming from outer space. Like that could be true.

"Whatever this virus is, it's still worrisome. It's not acting like how a virus naturally would do." She got a narrow stare from Freakoid. "Ok, everything about it isn't normal. But there is a plus side to it."

" _And what's that_ _?_ " This was going to be fun, what sort of optimistic point she could pull out of her ass.

"At least we don't have any zombie dogs running around. We've got enough trouble dealing with walkers and Volatiles every day."

" _That's actually a good point. Don't think I can handle a jumpscare like that._ "

"Jumpscare?"

The first red light flashed in Crane's head. Because that reaction was legit - either she had never heard the word, 'jumpscare' or didn't know what he was referring to, until now.

" _...Yeah, jumpscare. You know, mutant dogs jumping through windows and scaring the shit out of you?_ "

Nothing from the look of her face. The sports sunglasses couldn't hide Jack's outright confusion. Another second and all she did was silently motion him to explain it better. But Crane was too baffled to say anything once he digested what he was witnessing.

"Aaaam I supposed to know this? 'Cause I don't. What exactly are you talking about?"

Crane's golden eyes were at their widest. No. He did not hear that. She knew about 'that' reference but not his?!

He was done.

" _You're a disappointment. You really are,_ " was all he could say. She tried to make comeback, ask what was he going on about, but no, Crane stopped her by silencing her with a gesture of his claws saying "Nope, I don't want to hear from you anymore."

He walked away from a completely oblivious Jack.

* * *

" _So, mind telling me why are we here?_ "

The Freakoid thought this was the last place they'd go back. There wasn't any reason to. But there they were, standing outside the destroyed opening of the Orphanage.

"Checking out that lead for Bones. He did give an interesting point I overlooked."

" _And that is?_ "

"It's better you see it for yourself actually."

Could Crane just get a straight answer? In fact, it sounded like Jack was having fun making him spin in circles for the bone.

But still, for her to come back to the Orphanage? Nothing has changed - the number of infected outside was still the same and the number of dead Cicadas the further the two walked in. The smell of death lingered just as thickly as everywhere else in Scanderoon.

Nobody was coming back, just like Carlo said.

" _So...are you ok?_ "

"Ok?" The brunette glanced back, clearly puzzled by his question

" _Because this place, I mean-_ " How should he put this delicately?

"There was nothing we could have done. We did the best we could do," Jack said it rather too swiftly - not with any intention to end the conversation there but to reinforce the notion that losses were bound to happen. But Crane could tell. The Orphanage incident did put a dent in Jack's already-battered and repaired shield. And she shook it off like it was a regular day at the boxing ring.

" _Yeah… We did our best._ " But it just wasn't enough. It always wasn't enough. And with that discourse ended, he moved on to the next to ignore that bitterness. " _So what exactly is this lead of yours?_ "

"Been wondering about what Carlo told us the whole morning. How the place got jumped on during the blackout."

" _What is there to think about? They got attacked by the infected._ "

"Yes, but from inside. One kid told me there are secret passages beneath the Orphanage the Sisters didn't."

Ok, that made sense. Crane was reminded of the underground tunnels beneath the museum in Sector 0. All those passageways submerged from the lake. " _And you want to find this underground passage to do what...?_ "

"That we could find a Candidate down there. Zombies stay in the dark during the day. Seems fitting. They could be long gone by now. That doesn't mean they couldn't have left a trail."

" _Alright,_ " Crane sighed with disbelief. Just let her do her thing and he'd eventually get to the point. " _I'll bite. What gave ya the idea we'll find one downstairs?_ "

"I found something while looking for the kids. Didn't share this info earlier because well. Carlo wasn't in any state of mind to go into further details about the break-in. And the folks from the Junction would only get paranoid if they saw the little discovery."

" _What could make anyone any more paranoid than an outbreak?_ "

"How about this?" And Jack pushed open the double doors.

Where they were was still the Inner Court, originally with a prayer room opened for the public. And that was where Saint Sandrine stood at, palms out to give a moment of respite to her poor, misguided followers.

It was where she did stand. Now, the statue had been pushed off her pedestal. The right arm and bottom legs had broken off and her left side of the face was torn off. One look on this would make any Sister yell "blasphemy!" if they were alive but there was a more shocking red clue painted across the wall.

It was almost unreadable as if someone with illegible handwriting tried to form those seven letters. But he could almost see the word.

"' _Heretic'?_ "

"Seems like there were some people who didn't like the statue of Saint Sandrine."

" _And what does that prove anything?_ "

"Well, let's think for a minute. We're looking for a candidate like you."

" _Ok._ "

"That can think like a human, talk like a human, walk like-"

" _Alright, I get your point._ "

"Here's the thing. Are you still good at writing?"

It finally clicked in Crane. In fact, what Jack was proposing was a wild idea. Kyle was a clear representation of a sentient zombie and yes, he could still use his hands - he still knew how to spell his own name. But the idea that there were others? It almost made him feel wary. Could the Mother really be back? No, he killed her.

Someone without a head couldn't come back from that.

" _And you think a zombie wrote that? Maybe it was one of the Cicadas who vandalized the statue out of spite._ "

"Sure. If the paint wasn't human blood." The brunette turned away from the prayer room and headed down a hall to look for the basement. "You said you're the only one, right?"

" _Yeah, as far as I know._ "

"Here's the thing. Are you really sure you're the only one?"

He bit his charred lip. "I'm certain," he voiced out. "...I'm the one who killed her."

Jack took that with a bit of surprise and a bit of relief there wasn't more than one Freakoid. But it did make her ponder…

"Well, there is another angle we never thought of. Bones could be right about this whole viral evolution taking into effect."

"What do you mean?"

"That someone besides you and your compadre turned into something like you. They 'evolved'."

Crane was hoping she couldn't come to that conclusion. But looking at himself, it wasn't far-fetched. " _Super. Another me out there is already dangerous enough._ "

"Aren't you also dangerous?"

" _I got nothing to say to that,_ " he grumbled. " _But...if this infected did write this, it does mean it has some level of intellect._ "

"Not on the same level as your rational thinking. And I vouch that's a far worst zombie than you."

" _Agree._ "

"Well, then. Now that we're on the same page," she chided and pointed to the busted basement door and the many claw-marks decorated wildly around the entrance.

Something had exploded out from below the Orphanage. The two stared down at the rickety wooden stairs, spotting the footprints across the dust and down into the stale-aired darkness.

"Let's go hunting."

* * *

A/N: Another chp up and I actually didn't expect to be done so fast. What's more, I actually had fun with this one - a chapter chalked with dialogue. And dialogue is usually my weakest part of writing. It's also funny that the last part of this chp was supposed to be in the previous one - the Saint Sandrine's statue. But with how the last chp went, I completely forgot bout it. However, despite that setback, this actually helped me plot out a clever idea for the next chapter. What could be down in the basement of the Orphanage that destroyed the Cicadas?

And this chapter gave me more ideas behind the virus. The origin of it wasn't explained too much other than breadcrumbs. And that opened a lot of doors I could think of on its origins and its whole structure. :D Especially having the dogs not be infected. This also helped make me think of a small group of people I later will introduce in an intermission behind that collared dog. And hopefully before Crane and Jack manage to get to Harran, two more groups I have in mind.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chp, even though it's just mostly talking. Pls R'n'R!


	19. SEVENTEEN: PERPETUAL COWARDICE

**SEVENTEEN: PERPETUAL COWARDICE**

* * *

The air was stale but it had been stirred, hit with a strong, pungent odor of fresh and rotting flesh. It grew and grew the further Crane and Jack walked down the basement stairs. Creak, creak, creak beneath every step they took - but Crane has been through this many times.

The bottom floor was like your original basement, a little less clustered than Atilla's cozy home by the cliffside but a lot roomier - enough space for a huge gang of sneaky zombies to creep up the stairway.

A perfect scene for a horror film. A perfect place for a zombie's sneak attack.

It didn't scare him. He was always on the edge, prepared, waiting for the teeth to lash onto him or a paranoid survivor to attack. He was expecting for any leftover crawlers to be down there in the basement. His sight and smell didn't pick up any trace. And much to his dislike, Jack just casually disregarded any sense of danger by strolling down the creepy basement like it was nothing.

The completely ruined the mood of caution and terror. Seriously, did she want to die?

" _Do you think we'll be able to find this candidate?_ " Crane asked as he searched about for some hole the infected had crawled out from.

"Don't know. Doubt our writer will be in one spot. Zombies wander off to who knows where. They don't stay for the food."

The brunette had spotted a fresh corpse ahead, next to probably the boiler room. It wore the standard Sister clothing, now soaked with blood.

Jack slowly, respectfully turned the body over, hearing the soft slurping sound stretch from the thickly-coagulated red pool beneath it. Flies had begun to set in so it wasn't recent but she wavered it was probably during the raid last night. Dead fish eyes stared back at her. It was a different Sister. Not Sister Mary Francine but she had briefly seen the face before. An unlucky survivor whose neck was ripped open and body dragged down to the cellar after her death.

No sign of being eaten. She wasn't tasty enough for her assaulters to enjoy.

"Looks like we're on the right track." Then the little gleam caught her attention.

It was a necklace from the looks of it, entangled between the firm, flaccid fingers of the dead Sister. Rigor mortis had set in but with enough force and curiosity, Jack pulled the trinket out. The image of Saint Sandrine watched back at her in bloodstained gold.

" _And there's your culprit._ " Crane pointed to the 'backdoor' in another room - a pushed-down cupboard revealed what was a man-made hole that only led to more darkness.

Perhaps the previous old Sisters hid the entrance long ago until whatever came shoved their way out. Perhaps, in a cruel twist of fate, this secret passage was forgotten and no one in the Orphanage thought any wisely that the infected could come in.

One thing was certain - the zombies unintentionally made sure their backdoor was a one-way.

Crane grumbled at the collapse of stone blocking their way. Did an earthquake or something hit this place? And if so, what a coincidence. With one claw, he pulled away one rock. A thousand more to go from the looks of it.

" _Of course. A cave-in._ "

"Well, this place is pretty old." Jack peered through the widened hole Freakoid dug into. "And from the looks of it, this must lead to one of those historical tunnels."

" _Tunnels?_ "

"Scanderoon has a network of built underneath. From the salt-mining days. I heard that these tunnels got extended when the second world war hit the country. The Orphanage was one of those shelters."

" _And now a historian. Any more surprises out of you?_ "

"I've stayed here for a martial arts tournament once. The 2013 GTC. You pick up a few things."

" _GTC?_ " he repeated. The Global Trial Championship. Wow. " _Huh. That's a big event._ "

"I was a world champion," Jack stated, a little disappointed at the Freakoid for forgetting that little detail quickly. But she let it go. "C'mon. Let's keep searching."

" _For what?_ "

"Another way in. Kids with all the time in the world and Sisters too busy taking care of this place from falling, they were bound to find secret doors." There was an odd tone in her voice, more chirpy than the usual. Like a little prize was just waiting for her to find and take. "Wouldn't surprise me if they'd use the tunnels for some fun before the outbreak. Now...for some clues..."

Well, Jack certainly could find anything 'fun' out of a grim, dark situation. She was already off on the trail, combing through stacks of boxes and old donations in one room.

Clues, huh. It has been a while. Crane had his fair shares of putting his investigation skills to the test. It helped to find a life, uncover the truth behind the fate of a poor boy's companion and dig up hefty firearms hidden by a little looney collector It helped Crane more so - it was what made him feel himself. It kept his mind working.

Himself. Odd thinking about it with his circumstances. But playing the detective had in a way, always been something he enjoyed.

" _Alright. Clues,_ " he said to himself. He had his thinking cap on. " _If it's kids, then it has to be something they made or used..._ "

It narrowed down what he should be looking for. Kids were short, adults were tall. Kids used things their age, adults used things they could reach. So Crane needed to search for places children would interact with.

Of course, a basement wasn't one place children should be playing in. If he had to guess, they hid any evidence of their presence away from the Sisters. Where it wasn't obvious or overlooked.

Crane went on his knees and peered underneath a bookshelf.

Ah-ha.

Snuck hidden from any adult was a child's lunchbox - the kind he had as a kid himself too, the kind that a child could use to hide their favorite items and trinkets. The pattern in the dust showed it had been moved out from its hiding spot many times. And the contents were exactly what he expected when he pulled the metal lid open. Small toy cars, little army soldiers, crayons, and...one folded letter.

"Got something," he hollered vocally and opened it up.

Jack joined him, glancing over his shoulder. The letters were scribbled in crayon untidily, definitely by one of the orphans. One line was the most important clue they could have found.

"Into Narnia?"

" _Of course._ " Then again, that hint was too easy so duh. " _We just need to find a wardrobe. A group of kids going through a cabinet to another world. It's a classic. You've read it, haven't you..._ "

It all fell short the moment Crane spotted the disapproving, disappointing frown from Jack, drilling right into him. He was actually thankful for those sports shades to hide how thin her eyes probably were.

" _Uh…_ "

"What? You assumed a person like me never had a childhood and read books?"

" _Actually...I never took you as a bookworm_ ," he daringly spoke that out.

He couldn't see beyond the sunglasses but he definitely could feel how icy the glare was. The frown, however, told him everything. With nothing more to say, Jack left off to find a wardrobe as she grumbled quietly to herself, "I read books." and "Who hasn't read that book as a kid?"

He scratched his neck sheepishly. Well, Kyle, don't judge a book by its cover. And he refrained himself from saying that pun.

"I count three wardrobes down here." Jack sighed. Well, they couldn't make this easy but they had no way of narrowing it down. The first cabinet she came across, she ran her fingers around the wood - for any sign like a gap in the concrete behind it or the feeling of wind seeping out.

" _Three, huh? Alright._ "

Jack raised an eyebrow, away from the first cupboard. There was something off about the atmosphere. The sense of danger or thrill were replaced by a different feeling. It offset her for some reason. Why did it remind her of something from a television show?

Then she finally got it when she noted the Freakoid cup his finger to his chin and ponder on his next move. A zombie - doing a particular pose in those scenes as he mumbled to himself about his deductions.

" _Wonder which wardrobe is the flashiest to children. Or maybe they kept their things in one-_ "

"Really?"

The sudden outburst broke his focus and he wheeled to the baffled ex-kickboxer. " _What?_ "

"What is this detective noir shit?"

And like that, his spell was broken. The usual shtick he had always done as Detective Crane was gone out like a light.

" _Noir shit?_ " Crane nearly gave it away but he kept the offense in check. "Excuse me but I'm looking for the entrance."

"No. You're acting out as Sherlock Holmes. Should I give you a pipe and that hat to make the mood more appealing to you?" Jack jested.

" _W-What?_ " He tried to feign ignorance. " _I'm not-_ "

"Oh, don't deny it." Jack folded her arms with a shrug of her shoulders. "We all have our little quirks. And you were human once so-"

"Hold on. What quirks?" Crane's voice was crackling, even as monstrous as the usual out of him.

"You don't see it, do you?" she asked playfully. The mannerisms, the walk, the nuances and the stance. It was obvious! "It's like watching a real life re-enactment of those mystery shows. Did you have that little spyglass as a kid?"

He almost zipped his lips tight. Because Jack was dead on about the little nips of his childhood. He really hated this digging, pulling and teasing.

" _Alright. Fine_ ," he hissed. " _Got a problem with how I do my own investigation?_ "

"Oh, no problem. Just never understood the appeal behind those TV shows. It's like trying to make every single thing over-the-top with the evidence when you can figure out who the killer is in the first episode."

" _Excuse me!_ " Oh, she did not just offend him!

"Plus all that black and white is just annoying. Blurs everything too much you can't even see the clues."

" _What - hey! That's what makes it look cool_ ," he defended.

"So you do watch those shows." Cute, and at least she got back her revenge for his remark. "This way, Sherlock. I found the entrance."

His head tilted back. That was fast and they hadn't checked the other two.

"There's scratch marks," Jack was swift to answer him before he asked. She was right, Crane spotted the evidence on the stone floor. With her shoulder to the furniture, she gave a hard shove and timber, it went.

 _CLANK-THUD!_

Not without consequence. But a check beyond the entrance showed there was nothing waiting for them.

The man-made burrows were muskier than the basement's air, with a hint of saltwater and iron. And there was an eerie feeling of familiarity to Crane. Like he was 'home'. Not Kyle Crane, the infected side of him. It was 'comfortable' to that side he was trying to push dead into his conscience.

But he knew. This was another means for the infected to zoom around, undetected by humans. And if it wasn't the common 'folk', it was the mutated ones.

Just like him. And that didn't make it any better for him.

"Freakoid."

Again, he had dived deep into his train of thoughts, nearly going into that railyard tunnel. Like it was a daydream into something dark and terrifying. Did zombies...daydream? His eyes were to the ground but he lifted his head up to see the tough fighter, with hands in pocket and the usual patient pose.

Again, Jack pulled him out of it by breaking the normality.

" _Yeah. I'm fine,_ " he assured her. " _Just feels...familiar._ "

"You've been down these tunnels before?"

" _No. I don't think so._ " He grumbled to himself. " _I can't explain it._ "

Even Jack couldn't figure out his little riddles. Not like he expected she would. "Well, if you can't explain it, then it's not worth worrying right now. You need to focus."

" _Sure._ " Keep his mind working. He needed that more than ever.

Sheez, Jack thought with a light shake of her head, too small for Freakoid to pick on. Why, for a zombie, was he so obedient on sticking to a life-threatening mission? Most men would give up before entering these tunnels. It made her wonder how easy of a pushover he was as a human.

And that was a worrying thought. "If it gets too much to handle, we can always go back-"

Then he stopped her, quickly lashing a claw on her shoulder.

Crane noticed it around the bend. With his new eyesight. It was just like how he could see humans behind walls, how he could read off the pace of Jack's highlighted heart and how he could detect an enemy infected on his terrority - ahem, wrong thinking. An enemy infected coming after him.

On the dirt were faint but highlighted tracks. Not shoeprints. Not naturally stirred dust and markings he had found before whenever he was investigating.

These footprints weren't made by humans. Because they reeked a familiar smell off them. They didn't come from the basement but they pitter-pattered around the fork. Something had walked through recently.

" _Tracks. And they're from an infected._ "

Jack kneeled down, watching his claws delicately trail around the disturbed dirt. It was a good call - she would have missed it.

"Hm, guess you make a good bloodhound."

Crane scorned but this time, he had nothing to say to the grinning cat. Because he had to keep his head in the game. And the only way to do that was to do the exact same thing Jack was doing.

She was a human with venomous blood. Infected with the Harran Virus and changed differently in a bizarre twist. And what did she do? She took the mission to go test out her blood on Specials. A suicide mission. And Jack embraced it because she had an advantage.

Crane had been gone on near-death missions. As a human with whatever tool he could scramble with. And like Jack turning a bad situation around by using her perk, he might as well do the same with his new body.

So, fine. Time to be a bloodhound after the infected.

* * *

They were on the hunt - Freakoid up ahead and Jack watching the rear. The tunnels streamed far and wide, maybe as large as the city. On the plus side, it wasn't entirely dark. Electrical lamps lit up the caves, held on the rocky walls. With the hydrodam running, something brought these lights back up too.

A few stragglers stayed around, lost. They had wandered through some other way and now, couldn't get out to join their brethren on the feasting. And a wandering human kickstarted their hunger.

Then they stopped and some backed off. Those unlucky met Freakoid's silent wrath or Jack's bloody stab. But she had noticed the clever ones - if the zombies didn't want to go after her, then that was good for the duo. The fewer enemies, the easy this tracking would go.

Clever was probably too strong a way for them. They basically had free food walk through their lair and some decided, "nope, not worth it."

It wasn't the blood. Many times, she had normal walkers come and try to bite her. It was already too late for them to change their mind. Or what was left inside their decaying heads. The only difference from now and then was...well, Freakoid.

Could it be the competition was too great of a harass to the undead normies? Or was she reading too much into it? It was too bad she couldn't read zombies as easily as humans.

Then Freakoid stopped her again. A hand out gesturing her to halt and a claw to his charred lips saying "don't talk". Crane perked his head up as far as he could go, as if trying to hear something at one ear.

It was a faint sound, that Jack didn't notice. But it was there. Fifty feet away. Somewhere. And the tracks were getting brighter down the direction he glanced to.

He gave the signal to go. Slowly. And onwards, he took the lead. This bloodhound had to be vigilant if he wanted to keep Jack alive and get this candidate. Eventually, Jack picked up the sound. It was really soft but she could make out a man's pitiful sobbing. It echoed through those old halls.

"Is someone down here?"

" _If they are, then that's not good._ "

"Guess we've got a rescue on our hands. Or a dead man."

The weeping grew louder the closer they walked towards. Yet nothing in sight. The confusing, swaying caves seemed endless to them.

Only at a break did they finally get out. The cavern they entered was a dead end but there was evidence it had been converted into a structure with a large metal door.

"A raid shelter," Jack muttered, spying the ID card device as its lock. "And with fancy tech."

After all, Scanderoon was one of few cities aiming to become the country's Silicon Valley. She did recall hearing the Ministry of Development pushing projects to turn this old city into a smart city, with promising projects and infrastructure - which was introducing smart applications in transport, energy and urban services.

The future was right around the corner, said so on the billboards and the posters. Too bad that beautiful dream was halted by a viral breakout.

" _It's opened._ "

It was only a small gap and whoever opened the door, slipped right inside. Cautiously, Jack pulled the door a little more open. Because of the blood smear along the frame.

Inside was the standard needs for a shelter, all prepared for the world falling. Beds, shelves stacked with medical stuff, food, etc. But the reeking smell seeped powerfully out of the room. This shelter had been raided, alright, and gutted open.

Then she saw him, on his knees, crying softly. Surrounded by fallen friends.

It was a normal lean man in his forties, bald, wearing a white buttoned shirt. She could barely see three tied ribbons, oddly strapped around his right arm for some reason. Some sort of trend middle-aged people had? And what she could tell, lying in his arms was a woman. Young, probably a teen.

The young girl wasn't getting up. Dead? Alive? There was no way for Jack to tell unless she was closer. As they slowly neared to the man, she could make out the muffled words - speaking the lines of "they're coming", "they killed them", and "it's safe down here". They repeated again and again like a broken record, almost too jumbled to form.

The man must have seen things and survived by the skin of his teeth. If anything, he was probably long gone in the head.

But they had to try, right? Jack thought that.

"Well, there's our weeping man," she chided softly. Again, she was disregarding the circumstances - that she was in a den full of the walking dead and one freak of nature. Jack casually walked towards the man.

"Safe. It's safe down here," the bald man muttered. Again and again. To the girl in his arms. Or that was what Jack thought he was saying. He had an odd speech pattern.

"Hey," she called. "Sir? Excuse-"

All of a sudden, she was stopped a third time. Ok, this was getting old! But before Jack could complain, the look on Freakoid's face gave her a warrant for concern.

Something was wrong. And he saw something she didn't. The ex-kickboxer took one hard look at the crouched man.

She noticed the exposed red flesh beneath the torn shirt. Boils raptured through the pale, white dead skin on his shoulders with a pungent, sickly-sweet smell seeping from them.

Then the man sunk his teeth on the corpse in his arms. The sickening sound of tendons being pulled turned Jack's stomach around.

"What the fuck." The muffle out of her was soft but Jack shut herself up quickly. She almost fell for it. From the back, it looked like a human. The weeping made it all the more sellable to her.

" _Jack,_ " Freakoid threw that thought into her head. " _Back away. Slowly._ "

That was what she had planned for. This was all too uncanny. That was an infected. Another infected that could talk. Make words and reenact like he was genuinely sad. All too different from the normal runners that gag out broken pleads for one time and nothing more. Did they really find another one like Freakoid?

 _Tck!_

Something hit from the heel of her shoe as she backed away. A broken bottle tumbled across the concrete floor.

Then the sobbing stopped.

It became quiet.

Dreadfully.

Silent.

Chills ran down her spine. This was a different kind of fear - nothing like her many matches in the ring and her time during this outbreak. It was terrifying even to the fierce woman. Her mind was screaming to run.

Don't stay.

But she couldn't move.

The crying man glanced over his shoulder, showing the haunting, animalistic eyes and the nearly-split jaw mandible.

A Volatile was the first thought she had. But it wasn't. The body shape wasn't the same. The arms were too long. The skin color too different.

She didn't know what it was. She had never seen anything like it.

An angry growl escaped out of the creature as he rose up threateningly. Jack couldn't read anything off his hideous face other than one word.

Danger!

"Get out! Get out!" he bellowed in a broken, distorted tone.

Then the whole room seemed to shake at the next outburst.

" _GET OUT!_ "

And all the patience ran out for the new type. With one leap, it charged with clawed hands up front.

"Jack!" Crane hollered, ready to pull her out of danger with his tendrils.

But Jack was faster. She had been between the inside and outside of the shelter, standing right at the door frame as she was stepping back. In one quick swoosh, she rushed for the door handle and shut the door close. One click and an auto-mechanical locking sound told her the shelter was secured back tightly.

 _BANG!_

"Oomph!" The force nearly shook the door right out of its hinges and certainly the brunette off her feet. It took a bit for her to get her bearings back as she felt someone pick her up on her feet. Right. Freakoid.

"That should keep him in there-"

 _CLANK!_

"Shit!" Crane hollered as both of them ducked down from a flying metal door. Behind them, they heard it impact with one loud thud that most certainly stirred up any horde within the tunnels.

But their main concern wasn't the small fries.

The new type stepped out menacingly and with one more howl out of him, as if the beast inside was showing dominance, the bald man sprinted towards his first target. Long, thin claws drawn and ready.

The monster inside of Crane was faster. A duck back and the sharp bony talons slashed against the stone. But the next swings kept coming.

"Aurgh!" the new type hollered at arms roping around his neck. Jack managed to jump at the opportunity, boldly and stupidly riding on a creature like this one. The sudden weight staggered the hideous man down on one knee.

"Rope him!" Jack ordered as she worked on getting her own blood coated on her weapon. She needed the new type to stop moving for her to test it.

Yeah, what better timing to do this experiment?! But he wasn't complaining. Crane was swift, firing the tendrils out of his hands. One latched on the other leg that wasn't down and the other grabbed for the torso. That also meant around Jack too but what choice did he have-

"Get off me!"

"Whoa!" Jack should have seen that coming. Maybe Freakoid too. This wasn't a normal zombie. 'This' didn't behave like a normal one. Instead of trying to shake her off like a bull with a cowboy on it, the new type grabbed Jack by the collar and flung her right at Freakoid.

In a split second, Crane was taken aback by a flying Jack hurtling towards him. He almost went down with her. Then the next second, he planted his feet back down and stopped their combined force altogether. It was like both of them never really tumbled over.

He never got a chance to ask if Jack was ok. Because the new type pounced again. Now that thing found an opening.

And what? It was also against something like Crane. Shoving the brunette away, he parried up his other arm to take in the force hurling towards him. Talons hit his hardened skin, alright, but it nearly pushed him back on his toes.

He didn't see the swinging right hook.

 _Pow!_

"Gah! Ow..." He felt one side of his...split jaw cracked, the little remaining flesh that held it together tearing. Another strike would send that side flying and Kyle could go on without his somewhat-coherent ability to vocally talk.

He warily stumbled back from the creature, one hand on his mouth. He couldn't just go wildly like other mutated beings. He had to stay in his game if he wanted this thing to go down.

How? Even the ex-kickboxer, now back on her feet, was desperately searching for an opening. On an infected. This wasn't like her first fight with Freakoid - there was a mix of methodical yet unpredictable movements behind this new Volatile.

And it was sorta frustrating her. This fight was dragging too long!

"There's two of us and one of him," Jack irritatedly pointed and readied up her bloodied machete. "This should be a piece of cake-"

"You can't kill me. You won't kill _them!_ " it roared again.

The word, them, seemed to have a powerful effect. Or something? It was so quick for her to realize anything, or comprehend what just happened. A sharp pain just daggered through her skull from the ear-piercing holler, like something was trying to dig into her head.

The rocky walls around her were gone. In a split second, she found herself looking out of a window. In that split second, a scene played in front of her. It was too far away but she watched a woman shot by a bandit.

A teenager boy, maybe a year younger than Rahim, screamed. With anger and sadness. He bolted out from the farmhouse. But Jack didn't see what happened to him as out of the blues - as if someone was taking the wheel and driving this vision away - she was turned to a trapdoor on the floor and dropped down into the darkness.

As she heard the second gunshot.

" _Gargh!_ " she shrieked, hands immediately grabbing her head.

What the fuck was that?! It was like all her neurons were being electrified by something. Like she was in a different place, a different time. But in a blink of an eye, she saw herself back in the tunnels. It was like she had resurfaced from someone's memory back to reality.

She didn't see the lashing claw to her neck. Jack still couldn't apprehend the impending danger coming to her as she fell on one knee.

"Jack!" was all she could hear. All she felt was her body going one direction from a shove of a hand.

Had Crane not dive in, she most certainly would have been chow food. With all his might, he took in the charging power from the new freak, claws immediately arresting claws. He was on a hold-down with another kinda like him. Now it was the question which side was the better.

He had to be better! Or else, they were both dead!

Salvia and blood flung everywhere as the new type spat furiously, "I won't let you kill me! Like they did to them!"

Them? Who was _them?_ More like this one? If so...awesome! Like it wasn't hard enough for Crane to deal with just one!

"I'm not that coward in the basement anymore!"

" _What?_ " What was this thing talking about?

Stop thinking, Crane. Stop trying to figure out what this meant. This type wasn't capable of human talk like him. This zombie needed to die. Just kill it quick. Now!

But the more he looked at the beast in front of him, snapping to sink canines into him, the more he noticed...how familiar the face looked.

It was subtle. The jaw and the naturally-split skin did hide the details, even tore through the now poor, mange-like excuse of a moustache. Looking at the blood-red eyes and sharpened teeth would tell anyone that this thing was dangerous. To Crane, however, the small features were familiar. That he knew this person.

Because he remembered the man as alive. As terrified as a child, shaking in his boots, when his family was slaughtered by bandits. Too petrified to leave the basement of that farmhouse. He remembered how almost far gone that man was until he was brought back to his daughter.

It lined up so well that Crane finally realized it. And before he knew it, he blurted out one name.

"Ercan?!"

No! It couldn't be-

" _LEAVE ME ALONE!_ " the infected man roared. Both vocally and through thought.

Crane found his feet didn't touch the ground anymore. His whole world spun uncontrollably until his body hit a wall.

"Omph!" Shit! Did he really just pick him up and threw him like he was nothing?!

The once weak, cowering man he found in the basement of that farmhouse, back in the Countryside, was a creature more powerful than even him. It was a pure rage that couldn't compare to his moments going down under the surface and losing it. And the monster zombie fired his attacks at Crane.

" _Ercan! Stop!_ " It was probably pointless. But he had to try. " _It's me!_ "

Another roar out of the new type of Volatile deafened Crane from saying his name. And infected Ercan pounced at him.

Get out of his terrority! This was his safe haven! There could only be one of them!

That was what he could see in Ercan's glass-like eyes - some fragment from the past lingered behind those white orbs, as if this was replaying a terrible scene all over again. Ercan wasn't that frightened man anymore. Bandits that killed his family would be a joke. People like Jack who saw him as a threat didn't make him afraid. As long as he had this power, he could stay alive.

But here was the thing: that was what Crane thought. Something similiar to how Crane felt that night, before he snapped out of it to see the quivering runner beneath him. And there was the difference between them - Crane came back. Many times to count. But Ercan...a person he knew was dead, infected and gone.

Crane repeated that quickly. Ercan was dead, infected and gone. He wasn't coming back like Crane did.

" _I'm sorry!_ " Crane apologized. Again. Again! But someone had to do the finishing blow. He tried to grab for Ercan's head.

Snap his neck like the many times Crane did before.

" _I have to do this-_ "

" _GAAARGH!_ " the new type bellowed. This type didn't act like the normal walkers around him, or the biters. The normal zombies would flail their arms, unable to comprehend the coming neck snap before dropping down.

But the new zombie adapted. It reacted differently. Its free arms didn't flail uncontrollably, they grabbed Crane by his shirt.

" _Wh-Whoa-WHOA!_ " It took Crane by surprise. He was easily picked up like he was paper. And just like trash, Kyle was tossed away in one go. All he could feel was a wall, or was it the ground?

Whatever it was, he felt the impact from it - enough for vertigo to hit him. With all his infected, heightened senses, he couldn't see where Ercan was. Once his vision stopped blurring, he found the bald zombie standing right on him.

"Ugh!" A foot stepped on Crane's neck. It pressed harder and harder, cutting down on his breathing. He tried to get it off him but this new type's strength parried even his.

What was more, he stared back at the golden eyes - glaring dead at him. There was no human behind them like him. It was someone else, something else staring at him like an animal.

Infected Ercan was ready.

"Grrragh!" Out came the battle-cry and suddenly, something leaped onto the monster's back. Jack was back on the saddle and this time, with a much more insane plan.

The stab to the shoulder wasn't intended to finish the new freakoid. But during her struggle to her feet, she had purposefully tightened her bare hand on the blade and let the blood flow down. Let it seep into its bloodstream.

The cry was inhuman. The yellow animalistic eyes locked on the hand digging the weapon deeper. Jack never would have thought for a 'Candidate' like this one, it would retaliate. It grabbed her arm and before she could do anything, the canines sunk down.

"Ugarh!" The hot-iron pain shot through her whole arm. This wasn't her first, as she bit hard on her teeth.

"Jack!"

The ex-kickboxer held on for the ride of her life, clutching her teeth tight to endure the sharp agony. Just stay on. She couldn't get anymore infected and best of all, this thing couldn't try to take a bite off Freakoid.

And of course, Freakoid had to have an idea. The Hunter rushed over and seized the bald zombie. Well, that did make the ride less rough but even with two on top of it, it wouldn't go down.

But Jack had one good advantage. She still had her other arm.

With legs fastened so tightly around the creature's torso, Jack prepared the punches. One down at the eyes. Another and another. She had to, until this monster would go down.

And it didn't drop after five hard jabs.

"Go down, already!" she hollered, preparing the sixth one. "Go down!"

"GET OFF!"

Ercan had enough of being held down. With everything the infected got, he pushed both right off of him. The disgusting taste on his dangling tongue urged him to spit it out. It lingered horribly.

And it was doing something. Zombie Ercan 'felt' wrong. With a couple more forceful gasps, the new type hurriedly turned tail and ran.

" _Wait! Stop!_ " It was a stupid attempt from Crane. Ercan wouldn't stop. It wasn't a human anymore.

That fact made him stay - as much as he hated it, Ercan was gone and there wasn't any point to chase after him. There was no reason to continue this fight. He turned back to another concern, Jack's safety. The bite on her arm was really bad. Kyle refrained from asking, "Are you alright?" when he clearly could see the blood. And the ex-kicker looked like she had gotten the wind punched out of her. She didn't even patch herself up.

" _That's it._ " This mission of hers was suicide, to herself! If that Raz leader wanted her to be alive, then give this pet project to someone else! " _This is getting dangerous for you, Jack._ " He took the bleeding arm and went to work with a bandage he had on hand.

Still nothing from her. Shit, did that fight really take a lot out of her? Or was this another light-headed moment from the blood loss?

" _C'mon. Let's get you out of here-_ "

"He didn't go down."

Crane raised an eyebrow at that sudden statement. Or whatever expression a zombie like him could even give. And only up close, did he realize Jack wasn't

She was flabbergasted.

"He didn't go down," Jack gasped. Her shoulders sunk low at the growing disbelief and her mouth was so wide open a fly could go in. She couldn't believe it. If Freakoid could look behind the shades, he'd see how big her eyes were.

Again she repeated the words.

"He didn't go down!"

Those words finally hit Crane. He understood. They had found their candidate.

Did that also mean Ercan could become like him? That was a terrifying, scary thought. That wasn't what he would want on another.

But that also meant antibodies.

A cure.

" _I tagged him!_ " Kyle pointed quickly as the two began the chase. It was a close shave that he managed to slip a tracker down the shirt button during his first struggle. " _Go!_ "

* * *

Run!

Keep running!

They have to hide!

Where? This place was unfamiliar even after days. The tunnels reached for miles, even to areas no man had ever stepped through. This place didn't have the open, yellow fields and the windmills.

They could have stayed there. They were free. But they have driven away - their prey managed to be more threatening than what it was worth to kill them. So they ended up finding a sewage line and followed it down into the darkness.

Where it was supposed to be safe.

They could hear those two behind the new infected type. The turned one was faster than the prey - a prey they just discovered to taste revolting!

And the horrible taste was still inside. It was eating through them, making it unbearably hard to breathe. It was blurring their vision, making it harder to pick at the orange highlighted skeletons behind them. The normal lighting sprint was stumbling down to a weak tumble.

No, they couldn't stop. They needed to live.

He wasn't the coward anymore.

What, he?

Why...did...he…

Then a blinding white light suddenly pointed at them. Him.

"Agh!"

"Shit! What are you doing?! Shoot it!"

"Stop, you idiots-!"

The light hid the three orange lit bodies suddenly in front of the new type. Prey. More prey. No, numbers could mean-

 _BAM! BAM! BAM!_

There were so many bullets, bouncing off the hardened, armored skin. Yes, more prey meant more weapons. Sometimes, it was an annoyance but so what? They were still prey, terrified, weak livestock. Food for the mighty.

But this time, he felt weak. The rampaging venom in him was stirring up-

Resurfacing.

That agony stopped the moment one bullet popped right into the left eye.

 _SPLUNK!_

Everything felt light to them. Why?

Everything was blurry. Why?

He couldn't comprehend everything. This was all too different from him.

He remembered that day, when the bandits came to his farmhouse. He was moving the supplies downstairs to the small bunker. Then he was supposed to find some new wires to fix the stupid UV lights. But before he could leave, he suddenly heard the gunshots, followed by his wife's scream.

He was already shutting the trapdoor once he heard his son yelling, then the next gunshot. He did cry. He did break down. He just saw his family die and all he did was stay in their basement.

He couldn't recall what happened after that, or the man who found him - lost in his grief and insanity. He couldn't remember his name, or any recollection before and after that one. It was wedged so deep into his mind, that memory became an oath. To both of them, himself and the other side.

He survived like Lazarus. And they survived again. If the other one inside his head hadn't come, he might have stayed dead for good.

The memory replayed all over again. But it wasn't bandits anymore. It was the fighting prey. The prey was coming for them. Just like they did after his family. But this time, the strange and different Volatile had nowhere to slip and hide. Their body wouldn't obey them anymore.

They were afraid.

Afraid.

Afraid.

Afraid-

And everything went dark.

* * *

A/N: Heyo all, finally posted this new gem of a chapter! And I do kinda hope I did well for this twist. I know a lot of players don't really remember the side characters except a few unless it really stands out for them but this was something I had wanted to explore for Crane's development. That he would meet people who either knew those he had met in Harran or meet people he knew that would only later, tragically die. That is the same case for meeting Jack and learning of her connection with Rahim, Brecken and Jade. The dilemma of him knowing what happened to some people, from trying moments to the deaths and is unsure if Jack knows of the siblings' fate makes it an interesting character arc for him - this is rarely explored in zombie stories too because you throw so many other characters with little connection. That is said for other people and opens a lot of how Crane needs to interact: should he kill a person he know, should he tell a person that a loved one died? These are powerful choices Crane has to decide that will make him grow a lot more than his previous old self.

Additionally (incoming long test) I'm having a better idea of what Scanderoon really is - it is a coastal city but unlike Harran, I'd say it's a bit like a Silicon Valley city with not many urban areas. Parkouring around this city would be a different experience but it was kinda something lacking from the Countryside imo.

The idea of this city being different than Harran is that I wanted to interpret two types of transportation: which is the boat Jack's been on and bringing back Crane's buggy rides. Having a city that has roads like say my island, Singapore or say Gebze in Turkey, would mean that there are roads and rivers to take with a vehicle. In Dying Light, the base game, yeah, it was a little tedious getting around (other than cheating with the side quest selected and reloading the save file to spawn there) and Following did actually provide that solution (but it was a big awkward to me X'D). So overall Scanderoon has its parkour level structure like Harran with the vehicle system from the Following.

And under the surface are more ways like the sewage systems in Harran. Scanderoon has its own history, such as relating to Saint Sandrine and the WWII tunnels (inspired actually by a viewer during my streams, about Polish WWII history, so shoutout to vorips, thank you for the idea). It opened new ideas like the military bases and bomb shelters, ideal spots for supplies although that doesn't mean Antizin is there. As of right now, Scanderoon is a recent outbreak so of course Antizin would be coming back, however, not by the Ministry (cuz realistic I think a second outbreak would make people go "YOU SCREWED UP!" and with their ending reputation at the end of Dying Light, I'd say they wouldn't be too involved in the Descent). The story being the Antizin drops will be talked about later on hopefully in this arc.

Also, I'm using Kraków in Poland as a base reference to figure out what Scanderoon is in structure. It has overall the closest structures and landmarks to Scanderoon I have in my head and with it as a base, it'd hopefully give me location ideas for my ideas. Or else I'm gonna run out of ideas for those ideas.

Oh and I'm not sure if I'm bringing back Crane's buggy from the Following. I dun think that's realistically possible. Might have to be a new vehicle - maybe a jeep? Eh, I'll think of it when I get to that chp.

Lastly, yes, I'm making fun of Crane's sidequests where he goes detective and has that stupid black and white effect. I'm sorry if I'm not into noir, but like Jack said, IT'S REALLY HARD TO LOOK FOR THE CLUES! If anything, there's a lot of things I'm gonna poke fun at on Crane. XD So this is gonna be entertaining.

PS. One thing Im a bit upset is my ending of this chp. I purposely spaced the last four lines to have some weight to them. SADLY FFN formating doesn't allow extra space in them. Ugh, it just looks like I'm repeating the word badly. :L Sorry about it.


	20. EIGHTEEN: LINGERING

**EIGHTEEN: LINGERING**

* * *

 _BAM! BAM! BAM!_

The thunderous noises echoed down the tunnels, instantly halting the duo to a stop. And on Jack's app, the blinking dot stopped dead right after those sounds - thirty to forty feet ahead of them.

Crane felt a stone drop in his stomach. Half of his mind was thinking "Ercan was dead" while the other was admittedly thankful. Someone else had ended his life and Crane didn't have to.

Then the guilt crept back. He was relieved he didn't need to soil his hands, and the next revolted at that moment of relief. Crane had changed a lot.

It irked him.

The gruffy voices far away didn't snap him out of his thoughts. But Jack's hands pulling him back did.

"Hey. Freakoid," she called softly. That furrowed brow of hers told him she was concerned. To a freak of nature.

"Fucker's dead."

"God...that scared me."

Before Crane could say anything through thought or voice, Jack was already on the next move - equivalent to a wolf with her ears perked towards the men's voices. Three of them. Kyle could tell this was a regular thing the ex-kickboxer had done. Not an amateur who would back away from the sounds of the new _guests_.

And more _guests_ screamed out their welcoming from behind, the howls echoing through the walls.

"Shit. They're coming."

"It was your fault you fired! I told you to put the safety on!"

"That thing came at us!"

"C'mon! We need to move these boxes! Now!"

Shit.

Kyle quickly examined his surroundings - Jack was between a hard place and a rock, inside a hornet's nest. The way out was the guarded entrance spiraling upwards and glancing back, Crane had a harder time detecting the running fiends in the caves.

That was the drawback to his zombie capabilities: humans lit up like fireflies in the darkness but Kyle was almost desensitized towards other zombies' presence. It wasn't so much a 'lack of it' but more of 'a _need_ ' to find humans. Prey.

That word rang a little clearer to him than before.

"Four boxes," Jack's whisper snapped him back again. "10 kilos each. 40 seconds for them to take, probably two, and lock up the entrance. Horde will be coming in, say, 30. Or less." Then suddenly, he felt his scarf slip off. "I'll be borrowing that."

" _Hey-_ "

She had a plan. One he wasn't seeing, except her wrapping her head with the scarf and taking a large tarp found nearby. Up ahead, he noticed the four small crates she pointed, huddled by the entrance.

There was a smell too. Industrial.

" _Then we should head back-_ "

"No go. We'll be swarmed before we get to the Orphanage."

" _Ok. Then I'll take care of those goons-_ "

She chuckled. "While I have every bit of confidence you can handle anyone, we want the quickest and safest way out. Just need to play this con right. 20." She draped the tarp over herself.

" _Con?_ "

"Yeah. Con. What? Never deceived a person before?"

Omph, low blow there. Did she have to make him feel even shitter about his poor life choices? What was bewildered to him was how nonchalant the lady was in saying that.

"It's easy. Overload their senses with so much fear they won't recognize our faces. Well, my face. Yours, eh, questionable."

His eyes thinned so tightly with a growl clicking through his jaws. " _Fine. What_ ** _do_** _we do?_ "

"Good, you're on board. Because I need you for this con," she pointed, flashing a wide toothy smile under the hoods. "I'm the terrified French damsel in distress. You're the Hunter trying to eat me."

" _Wait_. _What-_ "

"10." Jack had already bolted from her hiding spot.

" _Hey! Wait!_ "

Out of her mouth went the wails in broken French as the cloaked woman scrambled towards the armed men. Convincing enough for them to panic rather than question why a human was down in the tunnels.

"W-What is she saying?"

"Speak English!"

"Hunter! Hunter!" She jerked her finger towards Crane's direction, weaseling her way behind all three men. And sure enough, they spotted him. Guns snapped to the terrifying Hunter immediately.

" _Are you kidding me?!_ " Oh, he was going to kill Jack.

"Did it just talk?"

Oh. Now that was just _great_. It didn't help that behind the panicked men, Jack was flailing her arms at Crane. _Do something!_ her body read. _Howl at them!_

Then she rolled her eyes frustratedly when Freakoid remained still, more cautious than going with the play. Oh, for goodness sake!

"W-Why the fuck is it standing still?"

"Don't care! Let's get out of here now before the horde comes-" The one prisoner turned to the quick draping of the tarp over his eyes and a hook to the stomach.

Down he went, tumbling on the last steps of the stairs and his two comrades saw the fall, wheeling back to the surprising danger standing behind them. Jack was swift, seizing one goon's arms and firing a kick at the other's knee. Her main focus went to her capture, disarming the rifle out as she delivered three jabs to his chest.

The third guy rallied back up, still limping from the sharp pain in his leg. Just as the fighter turned for the next attack - prepared to pull his weapon out from his hands - tendrils fired first on the rifle.

Wide eyes snapped to the Hunter in the tunnel. With one yank, the rifle went out of the hands and the prisoner slipped down the stairs. But that also took Jack down - she had grabbed for the weapon at the same time Freakoid decided to step in. Quick thinking saved her from hitting the ground as she latched a hand onto a railing.

The poor sob tried his best to steady him. He didn't fall but rose back up to the horrible face of a Hunter. He barely got out a scream once the monster grappled him.

Crane still remembered his Judo techniques, all the moves and he wasn't rusty even after his 'zombification'. But he never imagined how light his foe was.

 _CRACK!_ One box broke under the prisoner's weight. And the smell was getting stronger.

"Damn, you woman!" The last conscious thug pulled the cloth off him and climbed back up to his feet.

Jack was quick as always, in action and observation. On one step, between her and the man, was one of the heavy crates. She was almost correct about its weight, giving a good, hard shove on it and right into the charging thug's legs.

He timbered down, chin hitting stone and body rolling in agony. Now was their chance to bolt. But unlike Jack's enthusiasm for freedom, the Hunter was less inclined to move.

"What are you waiting for?!"

"...Gunpowder?"

"What?" Did she hear that right from the Freakoid?

He didn't budge or clarify further. In fact, he looked more dazed than before. The sounds of the horde, however, urged Jack to make a quick decision; a quick glance over the shoulder to the bright end of the stairway.

"We gotta go!" she snapped. "C'mon."

The brunette kicked off, rushing her way up the stairs. But Crane didn't follow.

He paced slowly to the open gate. There was light at the end of the tunnel, a proverbial stairway to Heaven. The rays streamed around the boundary of the woman's body as she grew smaller and smaller. Out of the damp darkness.

He belonged down here - the other self of him whispered that inside his head. The light was an annoyance. Yeah, he had been down here before and the feeling, "this was home", crept eerily like goosebumps. The others would be more welcoming to him if he stopped this rebellious phase of his. Others...like him, no doubt.

Kyle was even surprised to find himself questioning: should he stop following this lady and stay?

Then Crane glanced back to the one body on the floor. Not at the prisoners.

Ercan still laid there, blood pouring from the hole in his head. He had changed, physically, mentally, with similar features like those from Jack's notebook. Almost like a mixture of a Volatile and a Hunter. That man Kyle rescued from the basement was gone, succumbed to the virus and turned…

Like him. A zombie.

Another thought snaked into his head. What happened to the people at Jasir's farm? What happened after he left the Countryside and out of the manhole?

There was no way he could get the answers now. The only response he had was Ercan's deceased body.

But if so...was that how Crane would end up? Being gunned down like that? His assaulter never knowing there was a mind hanging on the edge by a thread.

Yes, he imagined. He had already figured no one would turn a blind eye on him. And finally, the weight behind that statement hit him hard.

So should he still stay down here, go back to being feral, and die like Ercan?

" _I want you to look out for Jack._ "

No. The Rav leader's words repeated in his head. He had work to do. He couldn't leave it unfinished and descend down into the darkness.

Just keep thinking it's work like, in Harran, he thought. Keep himself grounded for a bit longer.

He gave one last somber gaze at the dead mutant.

"You can rest easy, Ercan."

And Kyle climbed up the spiraling stone stairs.

* * *

Ascending had never been so difficult for Crane. It wasn't like this before - every time he opened a door or exited out from a dangerous, dark place, he spotted the blissful casting light of the sun. High up on the rooftops or down below, Kyle would feel relieved with one powerful thought.

He had lived another day.

But now the sun was his enemy. It hurt his eyes. It burned the skin under his i. It urged him to hide in the shadows, to go back in the tunnels. And still, he persisted against the sun's threatening aura.

He had to live-

He felt his world shift. His control was gone for a second until it came back, close up to Jack behind a truck parked beside the entrance. One gloved hand clasped over his mouth.

"Shhh." She placed a finger to her lips, the whisper so soft a mouse couldn't hear it.

His sight was numbed again but his hearing was still sharp - he heard more voices, more men around them. Like one of Rais' outposts. Which of course, meant more guns.

Jack drew carefully around the corner to peer out, eyes behind shades attentively surveying the situation.

Like someone he once knew.

For a second, this reminded him of something. Only, it was outside a school. When Jack hushed, it pulled a vivid memory from Crane's mind. And the guilt still lingered inside him - only a little different and more painful than that for Ercan.

And when Jack turned away, her back looked similar as someone's he remembered.

The terrible sinking bubbled inside of him. This felt all too familiar.

No. Come back.

But his inner voice and real voice couldn't come out.

No. _No! Don't go._

"Jad-"

"What are you doing?!" The heavy-accented whisper was strong enough to break the illusion.

It was still difficult to see but his vision shifted to that of almost-normal human sight. And Crane found himself with one claw immediately clutched on Jack's wrist.

Jack. Not Jade.

"Now's not the time to be having cold feet," she murmured urgently, yanking her hand free.

He breathed. In and out a bit too rapidly but the clever 'mind reader' didn't pick up on it as she turned back to their surrounding predicament.

What was wrong with him?

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Jack pointed one thumb to an empty back alley, out of the way for any crook to notice. Her inaudible words were "Let's get out of here."

He couldn't agree more, nodding quietly to her.

She was the lead as always, one unobstructed by the blinding and burning sunlight. Kyle had to rely on her this time. While she squatted along the bank of vehicles, Jack gave a wave of her hand to him, silently telling him to beckon with her. They would take to the cover, away from the danger.

Good. That was what Crane wanted. He followed suit, keeping as low as his body would let him.

"Why are we even here? There's nothing here, man. Except these freaks," said one effusive thug.

"Prince's orders. We need to check everywhere for that woman."

Crane glanced a quick peek under a Volkswagen as he continued crawling away. The small amount of shade did some sort of help to his eyes - he got confirmation on what he could see. Definitely a station of bad crooks, holding up at what was the broken reminiscence of a bar. He could only count the two chatterboxes, three by the door far off and two moving about. More was surely inside.

"Really? Sure, she's some celebrity but why should that matter?"

"Dunno. Guy's fucking obsessed with her for some reason."

"Heh, bet he is. What's her name? Mad Dog?"

"Mad Jack," Jack glowered disappointedly for some reason. Luckily, it was far too soft for anyone but Freakoid to hear.

"Whatever her name is, Prince wants her brought to him. Alive. You want to get on his bad side?" his friend muttered sharply, ending with a sigh. "...He may talk all big and convincing but he ain't no chum."

"What? He killed someone?"

"You really don't know. He did a lot more than murder. Bastard is _the_ big bad wolf in this country."

Basically, another bigshot like Rias, Crane thought to himself. Even sounded more self-centered with a name like _Prince_.

"Isn't anyone locked up in maximum security?"

"No, are you even-! Look, just count your stars you never meet him in person. He can read you like a book. Gets you under your skin too."

"Pft. You're making such a big thing about this guy."

"Hmph. Maybe this is what they mean by _ignorance is bliss_ for you recruits."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

It was a slow and steady crawl to the back alley, with every pause now and then. But finally, the two were able to duck into the shadows - Crane rushing faster than the brunette to escape the little singing of his skin.

"Hey! What are you dillydallying for?!" The loose-lipped prisoner leaped right onto his feet at the command of a third voice. His companion took his time however. "We gotta get this shipment out by noon! You, find out why Stretch's team is taking so long."

"Down the mines? No way!"

A thick, dicey pause of silence and a stern glare slapped the fear back into him. "You're going down there. Or I'm shoving you for Volatile bait duty tonight. _Take your pick._ "

The choice of life and death - it was never old to Crane back in Harran. The opportunity within a falling city of disorder was there for the picking. Authority was dead and abandoned. So of course the thieves, crooks and killers flocked together like lemmings to a cliff. For their own survival, not for the weak. And that meant pushing their own comrades over the edge.

Crane had thought this before: this was no different than Harran. One could even say that he was right back home...in a sarcastic way. These men were the kind he'd gladly take care of now.

But he stayed in the shadows. It was another three streets before Jack decided to stop, one more check for anyone following them.

"Too close for comfort back there." She finally let out a heavy breath she had held so tightly in her chest. "We should work on your communication skills if we're sticking together. A second later could devastate us."

She waited for the krusty comeback. Nothing came. Under the cover of an awning, Freakoid simply stood silently, staring off back to their origin point.

It was a bit concerning. So Jack called out. "Hey, Freakoid."

His head jerked. His savage eyes blinked. He turned towards her, still prolonged by several more milliseconds. Again, the series of little details she saw several times back in the tunnels and onthe surface - hints that showed he was still "human" inside.

"You ok?" She watched his next move. Nothing again. "You were out of it back there."

" _Oh, yeah… Yeah...the tunnels, they felt familiar to me._ "

"Really? I thought it was that Special."

Another quick, tiny pause. The 'feeling' in the tunnel Freakoid explained? It did come off like an excuse. Maybe it did hold some truth, but his second delivery on that line was undermining.

" _W-What?_ "

"Well, it's another one like you. I'd be flabbergasted if I found someone else with venom blood." She held up the scarf to him.

" _R-Really…?_ " He was thinking. Then, he took the cloth. " _Couldn't tell. Looked like any Volatile we've come across._ "

"A bit," she continued the swing, not a moment to show she was onto him. It was a little sad, to be honest, a shell of a man trying to deceive her. "But I have a good eye for details, mate."

"Yeah... " He didn't like that idea. His hesitation was clear as day when he took longer to take back his scarf from Jack's hand. For a zombie with an awareness and a forgotten past, he sure knew when to be careful. He _knew_ the kind of person he was dealing - someone who shouldn't be fooled around with.

His past life couldn't be that of any regular Tom, Dick or Harry, that was for certain to Jack. He had the mindset of a pro, relying not on the feral mindset but a gut instinct. Like her, but with a sort of naivety in his actions. A softness during these harsh times. It was the question, what exactly was his past, that eluded Jack.

Just who was this guy before he turned?

" _So what now?_ " Freakoid brushed over a new topic, as he wore back his scarf. " _We lost our only lead back there._ "

"That we did." She nodded, letting the seconds tick tock. And with a clap of her hands, she proposed their next movement. "Guess we should look for other options." With a turn on her heel, she strolled away

" _Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute!_ " The Hunter leapt in front of the human, an act that would have made any survivor jump out of their shoes. But clearly not Mad Jack. " _You're ending it like that?!_ "

"Well, yeah. You said it. We lost our lead. Doesn't mean it was our only one."

" _So...just find another Special?_ " There was a crack of emotion in that line. Disappointment? Distaste? Or apprehension?

"We can't be picky, Freakoid," Jack explained frankly. And straight away, Crane stepped back. "I already said we wouldn't start with you."

Right. Didn't mean the Ravs would do it later on him with the blood tests. " _I hate to break it to you, but that Special you need for this test is dead… And the obvious answer is me._ "

"Oh, so you're gonna volunteer?" she chided too perkily. "I can call Bones to book an appointment when we drop by the Outskirts."

" ** _No._** "

She shrugged her shoulders at the quick, harsh decline. "Well, we have a long way back to Outskirts anyhow. For now, we'll just have to keep searching."

"Keep searching?" For how long? And not just because of their own mortality but the situation around them. The virus had spread into Scanderoon like cancer - time was against them just like it was to Crane in Harran. That was why he had thought they had gotten their answer in the tunnels. " _You said if we find a Special, we could start this pet project of yours. I mean, your group made it urgent."_

"Are you always this impatient?" Jack asked bluntly. "You really can't rush into things."

" _Hey, newsflash. There are sick people everywhere. And we are surrounded by the undead._ " He gestured his claws to himself. "I'm one **example!** "

"And you're doing far better than these walkers, mate. I'd say that's an achievement." No dent. Crane couldn't fathom what went on in her head.

" _How can you be this...arrogantly confident? We pretty much came out empty-handed back there._ "

"On the contrary, I'd say this hunt was fruitful. It gave me a theory," Jack boosted, taking no offense to Kyle's little remark.

" _Oh._ " He crossed his arms pompously. " _And what's that?_ "

"That there could more like you."

Despite how aloof Jack spoke that line, it made the pale color in Crane's face much paler. That had never crossed his mind until now.

His shock incited her to explain, keeping Freakoid on the same page as she was.

"Think about it. First, it was you. Then we got that other Special. Not as talkative as you are." The little joke prompted a disapproving groan out of Freakoid. Such a tough audience, she thought. "Who's to say there aren't ten, twenty of you out there?"

More.

The idea didn't sit well on him, that more like _him_ could be in Scanderoon. Maybe in Harran too. And when he clicked a previous thought together like a jigsaw puzzle, he couldn't help but feel even more uneasy.

The blue vial. It was what started it all: the Mother's transformation, his transformation, and then Ercan's. Crane didn't know how and why, anything behind the inner workings of the elixir but he was certain it all connected. What made the guess even grimmer was that the elusive Faceless cult used that so-called 'cure' on a large community in an inhalable form.

How many became like him? Jasir? Palot? Bilal? Anyone from the Countryside?

How many would he have to meet along his bizarre journey-

"Hey." Jack's waving her hand right at his face pulled him back out of his thoughts. Her hazel eyes peered into him, the sports sunglasses pushed down the bridge of her nose. "Are you listening?"

"Uh, what?" he muttered.

The discordant sounds out of his mouth were still unnatural to Kyle. It prompted him to swallow, needing to clear out his throat and disperse that foreign thing out of his voice box. Anyone would be terrified if they heard him vocally.

"I asked, "if you remember anything about your last whereabouts?"," Jack repeated the question, unfazed by the inhuman tone, far better than him now. "You're really out of this today."

"I'm fine." No, he wasn't. He was clearly displaying his discomfort naked to her. One more swallow and he spoke out telepathically, " _Why do you ask?_ "

"Well, this is the second Special to have a reaction to my blood. So maybe you two came from a point of origin that caused your transformation," was Jack's line of reasoning. "This isn't like any other infected."

Oh, he knew exactly where.

" _No._ " Again, Crane swallowed. Stay calm. She couldn't possibly read anything out of a Hunter. " _Can't say I know where._ "

The problem was his opponent in this game of deception - Jack was again unreadable to him and there had been several times that irked him. With anyone, he could lie out of dodge or turn the conversation to his advantage. But with the brunette, there was a stiff expression out of her, a reading deep and far past the shield he held.

It didn't help that she had pushed her shades back over her eyes, the very window into a person's emotional state. Who would have thunk it that a zombie couldn't see past the reflective lens. The little silence between them almost made him wonder if he had given it away.

"Hm. That's a shame." Crane had a moment of relief. Good, she dropped the topic.

There was no reason for Jack to go to the Countryside. No, it was _he_ that didn't want to go back there. Call him selfish, a coward, whatever, but that was the line he put down.

He was never going back there.

"Guess we'll have to find other sources." Back crept the cheeky grin. Off Jack went to work, fishing out her earpiece. "Ender. You two alive?"

 _Bzzt!_ A sharp electrical sound hit the comms. " _What? You think a little blackout would stop us?_ "

" _We're fine, by the way,_ " spoke out a second voice.

"Of course. You two aren't the same kids we first met," Jack praised. "We've been through a lot more than just a blackout."

" _You're insinuating we_ ** _still_** _are kids? Now that's insulting._ "

"Because it's true. You and the rest of the Grads."

" _We're offended. I'll let the gang know you said that._ "

"And I wouldn't care. Now, I've got some work for you two."

" _Aw, c'mon. You do care. You're always talking about keeping a rep._ "

"The same should also be said about your reps too. Don't suppose you've gathered some intel this morning, or have you two been sleeping since last night?" Jack moved the conversation along.

" _Oh, we've got plenty. It was no picnic getting them._ "

" _Did you hit a hornet's nest b.t.w.?_ " Riza asked. " _Some prison blokes and a few GRE squads' been looking for you._ "

"Oh, fabulous. Those stuck-up agents." Jack's list of enemies was getting longer by the day.

" _So you did do something._ "

"I...might have made a couple of people angry."

" _A couple? You pissed off a GRE lead agent, a prison mob boss and now both groups are after your neck,_ " Crane muttered.

"Oh shush. And how would you know that was a lead agent?" she asked, a hand cupping her earpiece.

" _Jack, who are you talking to?_ " Despite her best efforts, the two on the other line heard her. That little mistake drew Jack back to the conversation, much to Crane's relief. What a slipup he just gave again there.

"Oh, you know. Shy Guy," she swiftly answered, her tone not breaking. "They're probably recovering from the blackout last night. More uptight than before. Stay clear from them."

" _We should be saying that to you, Jack,_ " Riza pointed concernedly.

"I'll handle the crowd. Now. Intel?"

" _Sure, but price's bit higher this time._ "

" _If you're gonna make it harder for the both of us, then we want more compensation for it._ "

Jack groaned lightly. She saw it coming. "Alright. What is it? Rations? Special parts? Cash-"

" _We wanna meet Shy Guy. In person._ "

Jack's head jolted at the proposal, eyebrows raised. Even Crane expressed a more agitated glance.

"Ha-hah," the brunette broke the silence. "...Yeah, I don't think that's possible-"

" _Why?_ " Ender persuaded. " _Bones said he's a member now. So he's gotta have the proper inspection._ "

"Oh, we don't need that. Asem's fine with him."

" _C'mon, Jack. Everyone's talking about your 'imaginative zombie friend'._ " Jack could picture the young female runner holding out air quotes on the other line. " _So of course, they're asking us to see it for ourselves._ "

 _Ah, shiiit_. Crane had almost forgotten about Jack's spilling of the beans to her group: openly telling them about him, a talking freak of nature. He had deeply hoped that most wouldn't buy her little tale or better yet, see her as a madwoman. But all he could do was silently fret in circles.

"Basically, this inspection is for me," Jack bluntly exclaimed.

" _What? Nooo. We know you're as sharp as always._ "

" _We just wanna be sure. You'd never lie to us._ "

" _And if it is true, then we gotta talk business with your partner._ " There was a little tint of interest in the words, a bit too gleeful for Crane's taste. What _kind_ of business did they have for him…

"That's rather accepting coming from you lot."

" _Honestly, it sounds kinda exciting to the both of us,_ " Ender said to Jack. " _We'll be at the Hub downtown. Nobody there to see him in the open._ "

" _See you two there._ "

Jack wasn't quick enough to give a convincing statement - the other end already fell flat before she could turn the conversation around. The bitterness she then felt daggering into her back tempted her to look back: Freakoid absolutely detested the idea.

" _I am not going._ "

* * *

He went. And he hated himself for it. However, Crane set the ground rules to Jack: that she'd keep her two buddies away from him, that he would stay thirty feet from them and lastly, he'd walk away if they ever saw him.

The brunette simply said they weren't going to bite him. And Kyle stared coldly at her dry sense of humor.

The transportation Hub was an ideal place to meet up: it had its own unique, beautiful, skeleton-shaped architectural structure inside, too open for anyone to take shelter but also too closed off for a wandering ear and eye to notice him in broad daylight. A newly-built construction of the twenty-first century tainted and riddled by the undead scrambling boredly on the ground level.

Scanderoon was a place on the rise to being a smart city - the evidence was already there at every corner, with old monuments slowly transforming and new, innovative telecommunications integrated into the urban space. Better transportation, better quality of life, better city management, better information systems, a better city life. The dream Scanderoon sought out for two years until it was hit by the Harran outbreak.

By him.

No amount of information and communication technology could protect anyone from hordes of zombies. Everything had devolved down to the primitive need for survival: man, infected and the world around him.

Crane took to the second floor while Jack waltzed in casually past the threshold, which was the entrance of the Hub. Behind several walls, he spotted the tall orange-lit skeleton meeting a shorter skeleton in the ground level and once he reached the atrium, he peeked over the railing. The openly-spaced rooms - left unfinished with paint cans knocked over - was indeed ideal and safe for the two Ravs to meet up. Beneath their feet, the contemporary tiles were splattered with a dry explosion of colors, chaos destroying order in design.

It was then Crane noticed someone was absent.

"Yo, Jack." The short female, Riza, skitted herself off a workbench, first with a smile to see a familiar face, then a puzzled frown. "Where's this partner of yours?"

"He's here. Nearby," Jack tried to sell it.

Like a disconcerted child, the young college Grad pouted. "Couldn't you have just drag him over here?"

"Sure. Drag him. You do know this is a Hunter. Not a human or like the other Ravs."

"Never seen one so I wouldn't know. And he hasn't killed you yet, right?"

Jack's back was to Freakoid but her body could easily say, "Well...almost. Twice." She stayed quiet to the question and moved onwards with another. "Why the curiosity? You two are among the most tentative people when it comes to these sorts of things… Under Talos and Asem, of course."

"That doesn't mean a little risk is gonna stop us from opportunity," Riza boosted. The mindset of a crafty business student with a silver tongue. "And if he's a figment of your imagination, nothing's lost."

"Except you lot thinking I'm insane," Jack gruffed disapprovingly with hands on hips.

"C'mon, Jack. Don't put words in our mouths. We're not against you."

"Would never dream of munity. Also, the new guy's sensitive about showing his face with strangers."

"Wait, he's vain?" the young grad murmured with bewilderment.

"When you have a face a mother couldn't love, then yeah." That seemed to inflict a tap of fear into her ally, enough to make shoulders hunch and a frown wrinkle. "Believe me when I say this. The experience would scar you for life if you saw him."

Riza cocked up a worried, stern gaze. "Is that what happened to you?"

"Well… Not exactly."

"Then what's the problem? He's your client, isn't he? So tell him this is a normal business meeting."

"Heh. Normal. My line of work is very much different from yours, Riza. We're not talking about numbers and supply lines."

"Oh, please. You help people. So do we. How different is that?"

"I mean...when you put it that way-"

"Good, we see eye to eye then. So how 'bout it?"

A sigh and a shake of her head was all Jack gave. "He's not going to come."

"Hm," Riza hummed loudly. It looked like she was accepting the fact that there would be a no-go. Then she hollered out, "Hey, Ender. Do you see him?"

"Yeah. Brooding like a gargoyle up here. Kinda like Asem."

The voice was almost right on top of Crane. From where, he couldn't pinpoint the location but it was enough for him to be alerted. Someone was on the same floor as he was and he hadn't even notice it. His other self didn't sense it. Crane ducked deeper into the casting shades of his environment and searched for the voice.

" _Ender. Where are you?_ " Jack's voice clicked through the comms.

"Nearby." Where was _nearby?!_ "You weren't joking. Never seen anyone be this bashful around people."

That was because he didn't want anyone seeing him like _this!_

" _Is he really what Jack said?_ " asked the Rav member, Riza.

"I can't tell from this angle. He keeps moving like a chicken."

" _So she_ ** _has_** _been pulling our legs._ "

" _Hey. I am right here._ "

"Nah. He's no survivor. I can tell, remember?"

 _That's it_ , Crane thought. He was going to jump out of this building. Didn't matter if the blistering sun would be a pain-

"Hey. Jack's partner!" Riza hollered out loud. "We wanna talk to you."

" _Sure, you do,_ " he muttered to himself and scrammed away from their meetup place. The faster he got out, the better-

"C'mon. We're not that bad," his invader spoke up.

Crane wheeled to the voice, which was suddenly right behind him. There was the other Rav member, just inches away and perking up close like an owl with inquisitive awe. Patterns of bright, neon turquoise and magenta lit over the survivor's hoodie and leggings within the same dimness Crane stood in. As a matter of fact, it was almost like a skull-headed fiend was staring back at him.

"Where did you-?!" Desperately, Kyle tightened his scarf on his face more. He never even saw or heard the person make their entrance.

"Whoa," Ender uttered. There was no expression for Crane to read when the Rav member had their whole face concealed behind goggles and cloth. But there was no leap away out of fear or a raise of a weapon - but rather the aimless look of a gaping onlooker. "Bones wasn't kidding. You definitely don't sound normal."

Crane shuffled two, three big steps away. He was baffled at this turnabout - how could this kid be so calm? It didn't sink well on the Hunter that he was being examined, observed like an animal behind glass.

"So is he really a talking zombie or not?" Another shout from below the corridor.

Ender gave another glance at Freakoid. It was a harder reading on them than on Jack. Anything could go.

"Gonna keep us waiting?" Crane could feel a smirk dig into him behind the mouth mask. The strange Rav member then disappeared past a tarp before dropping down to the ground floor safely - the neon patterns on their attire vanished under the light.

They really wanted him to join them? Just like that?

"Geezus… They're like Jack," he mumbled annoyedly.

It was a cautious, slow pace towards the balcony. Claws gripped the railing as he glanced down to the odd, abnormal scene: just three people...talking. Outside a safezone. Like it was still a normal day to them. Even the conversation, clearly about him, came across so light-hearted and whimsical.

It felt unreal to Crane. These kinds of chit-chats were rare back in the Tower, more from the children than the adults.

Jack, still smirking, gazed up to the bewildered Hunter. "I told you it was pointless."

Crane's frown stretched longer.

"Holy… You really were telling the truth," Riza blurted out.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Jack sang, pleased to hear that. "Now can you report to HQ that I _am_ lucid?"

"Hmm…still up for verdict," Ender remarked boldly, not at all rattled by the ex-kickboxer's fretful glimpse.

The light banter and atmosphere were just enough to coax Crane from his hiding place, making his way slowly down step by step.

"So this is the famed "Freakoid" you were talking about."

"Definitely nothing like what we've seen back in the Outskirts," Riza gapped.

"I wouldn't agree. Been with him for two days and all I can say is that he's not that special."

Was that Jack's way of 'lightening' the load off Crane's back? It was rather deceitfully nice of her to do so, and yet...came off a little belittling to him.

"Well...he's certainly not hissing at us like those Biters," Ender pointed with some sense of relief. But they thought for a second and steered back to Jack with a whisper. "Does he...eat human flesh?"

Jack shrugged. "Not that I've seen him do."

The answer was left so open-ended Crane could see the two fill in the gaps themselves. With the wrong interpretations. Hey! Don't put words into his mouth, he hasn't craved for human meat. So far, he's been scavenging energy bars and whatever he could find from abandoned fridges.

"Hey," Riza called out, almost with a little shake when the golden eyes snapped to her. That scared expression dug a little into Crane's regret but it was short-lived. "Can you really do that telepathy thing or is it some sort of echolocation?"

And his stigma was replaced by aversion. Jack told them that, didn't she?

"C'mon. Zombies aren't telepathic," Ender corrected. "Never have been in games."

"Or movies," Jack added.

And yet, lo and behold, Crane could.

He was surrounded. Jack's assessment wasn't helping him much. But he wasn't going to entertain them. He still had his dignity.

As a zombie.

Sounded completely and horribly crazy connecting the two words together in his head. So right on the spot, Freakoid became the grouchy zombie Jack had been used to the past two days. His charred lips were sealed.

"Really? The silent treatment?" Ender exclaimed. "Hey, Jack. Make him talk."

 _I am not a thing,_ he said only to himself and grumbled bitterly under his breath. One word via thought or voice would end it for him.

"He's not a pet," Jack justified, at least giving some pass for the poor bloke.

"So he really thinks as a person." The remark from Riza wasn't intentionally mocking, just out of forthright awe. The gears were obviously turning, the young student cooking up assumptions behind bushy eyes.

"Or he's just imitating his actions like a human. He could be fooling Jack, for all you know."

"Seriously?"

"Ok. You can't be fooled," Ender replied to Jack. "But anything can go right under our noses. Virals can fake "being hurt" too."

There was an aloof nod from the brunette, accepting the undeniable truth said. "Well, he's been standing with us this entire time. That's something."

"Sure. For now," Ender pointed casually. "'Oh, one more thing, Ender, Riza. Jack said the Hunter's part of the Ravs now.' Bones told us that. Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"So you're against it?" Jack asked curiously.

"Us two? Nah, getting used to it. The others back home? Eh, maybe over time." Ender's voice trailed off with a hand doing air-circles. "I mean, how are we supposed to trust someth-"

They stopped themselves with a clearing of their throat. They were going to say "something", Crane just knew it. But at least this Grad had the courtesy to correct themselves before blurting out loud.

"Ahem. Someone. That won't even talk to us."

"Unless he lost his tongue," Riza proposed inquisitively. "Zombies do lose body parts."

"Or Jack really means it when she called you Shy Guy-"

"Oh, shut up."

Ender didn't jump in their shoes but Riza did, like a mouse hearing a twig snap before trying to make itself smaller.

"He really can talk," the short runner gasped. "Ender, he talks."

"I heard it too, Riza."

"This is creepy."

"Hmph," Crane scoffed. Yeah, he gave in but he had enough of this circus performance. Moreover, the Ender person was now on Crane's list of people to be careful of, for that stunt.

"Alright," Jack broke the one-sided conversation, a clap of her hands to draw the three onto her. "Now that Freakoid is here, how about our deal, Ender?"

"Sure. Afterwards. So what's it like on the other side? You're able to blitz past the other zombies like it's nothing, right?"

"Can you even move around during the daytime? Or faster at night?"

"Also, do you eat humans? That's an important question."

The kickboxer groaned before Crane could - what was her reason to do that when he was more bothered by the bombardment of questions. It was getting increasingly uncomfortable the more these two were invading into his little personal space.

"I've said this before. He isn't that special."

"Sure," Ender laughed at Jack. "You got a talking zombie. How is that not special?"

"If you count the other one we had a run-in with, then, yeah. It's not."

Both Rav members wheeled quickly at that drop of an anvil. "A second one?" Riza exclaimed worriedly.

"He's dead," their older ally assured them. "Gunned down this morning.."

"Oh." The caution was gone in less than a second.

"Then what's the problem? He's not coming back."

"Problem? Mate, there might be a dozen like Freakoid here. But _not_ completely like him, if you catch my drift. So you can ask him everything you want about his condition after my intel."

"Fine. Joy kill."

"Totally."

"What's the specifics?" Ender took the reins, asking quicker than Jack could roll her eyes at the folksy disrespect tossed at her.

"Any places that got hit badly last night."

"You're asking for the whole map, Jack. Everywhere got hit. Even our safehouse."

"What?"

"We're ok," Riza assured their senior. "Door was bashed but we were able to hold off."

"You mean I held that freak off. I told you to stay in the backroom," Ender complained calmly.

The short grad student frowned with a jolt in her steps. "Excuse me, but I'm your Lifeline in this city! If you're fighting those zombies, then we go together. Ravs rule."

"I know, I know."

Jack mustered out a heavy, displeased sigh but any more persuading from her - to have them returned back to the Outskirts - would fall on deaf ears. "How about strange events? Things that normally don't happen?"

The two young members slowly contemplated on that thought, before steering their sights on one particular point of interest.

Freakoid's eyes narrowed angrily "Hey," he snapped lowly once he realized they were looking at him.

"Besides him," Jack swiftly corrected.

"Well, there's the Bayside down the Coast," Ender began. "Folks were trying to get out to sea."

"But to no avail," she tossed out the obvious ending statement.

"It's not so much the navy, Jack. They've been talking about something in the waters, pulling people in."

"Hm. Sounds all too familiar to me. I'll look into it."

"The Courts' another place of interest. Some guy named Ilyas leads it. Bit uptight though."

"They aren't that open to strangers from outside. Specially, infected survivors."

"Which means I'm not invited," the brunette ushered boldly. "I'm sure I can grease some wheels along with their requests and they'll be more welcoming to me."

"Just be careful. They haven't done anything drastic but-"

"They have guns."

"And what's new?" Jack chided, unafraid.

"But they were alright. Warned us about the strange noises from the Mines."

"Who makes a mine a tourist attraction?" Riza interrupted.

"Greedy old men trying to cash in on a city's dying history, that's what."

Get to the point already, Crane wanted to say out loud but kept that in.

"Dark, cramp spaces for the zombies to hide in and wail don't sound far off to me," Jack intervened, bringing the two easily distracted adults back to the subject.

"That's what we thought. Until they said it sounded like chanting."

"Chanting?" All three heads turned to the distorted voice from Crane and it didn't help to see the younger girl flinch. A natural reaction he had as a human, when a Viral, a Biter, or a Volatile spotted him. At least there was some merit: the other two less jumpy runners brought down the rigidity in the air - Jack already used to tagging with a monster like him, and Ender...basically cryptic in both facial and body expressions.

"Yeah. Not only there, all over the city. Everyone's been saying they've heard voices at night lately," Ender explained further.

"Well...now that is odd," Jack pointed with uncanny, pretentious interest.

"Some thought they were unlucky folks who couldn't get to a safe place in time. Some even said ghosts."

"Ghosts," Crane croaked. It was as crazy as having the undead around. And yet, it sounded more grounded, harmless. The idea of encountering one spectre trapped inside a house over a city full of the undead ushered out a sigh from him. "...What I would give for that."

But this was their reality. And as quick as he fell back to the norm, he realized something about the rumor. It didn't sit right with him for some reason.

"Nuh-uh!"

The outburst distracted Kyle from his thoughts, surprised eyes snapping to Riza. This time, however, she stayed calm. More flustered and tense at spectral beings than a Hunter in front of her. "No ghosts. Already couldn't sleep with that in mind."

"I think it's just more Virals down there," Ender proposed. "But it _is_ something to look into."

"As the saying goes, "leave no stone unturned"," Jack exclaimed coltishly.

"Next up is the Junction. We just visited them this morning."

"How are they?" Jack asked.

"A lot cheerier than the other places. They've been calling you a hero."

"Sounds like you had an eventful night during the blackout."

"It was nothing." Crane noticed it in her tone, subtle but present - the compliments were brushed away as quick as a heartbeat. There was no gloating from the ex-kickboxer, no quick accepting of a job well-done in a glamorous, arrogant style. In fact, there was genuine worry in her soft voice. "Junction's at the top of the list for me to go visit."

The praise in both her members were shot down, with seriousness draped back into the atmosphere.

"Well, there is one thing you should know."

"Same rumor about voices at night?" Jack proposed.

"That," Ender clarified. "One of their runners discovered something near their place."

"Actually, not just at the Junction. Also at the Bayview and Courts," Riza said. "Someone's been painting a sun symbol. Blood red. And fresh."

The word, 'sun', made Kyle's orange eyes widen, unnoticed by the three humans. Dread rushed down his body as a thought immediately hit him hard. Just like the idea that there were more like him, with the common origin point being the Countryside, the idea of a specific gathering of people in masks appearing was loathsome to him.

But it was impossible! He saw the bodies. He remembered the blood splatters down the dark, grim hallway.

They were all dead-

"Must be the Firebrand I've been hearing so much about."

The tension boiling up inside Crane cooled down by Jack's peculiar report - before he could utter out that one name, just to double confirm if it was true - that they were back. The name Jack said, however, was something new.

"Firebrand?" he repeated.

"I suppose you wouldn't know much of the circumstances here. You did "come back"," she said straightforwardly. "It's a group that's been kidnapping people lately for some following. Nobody knows why and for what."

So...not the Faceless.

Good. Maybe. Crane took it with a bit of salt and sugar. Anything remotely connected to the Countryside gave him shivers and disgust. No matter how hard he pushed the memories away, something related came to remind him in a way of nails across a chalkboard.

But another psychotic group with nefarious deeds...he really couldn't get a break.

"Seriously? We have a cult in this city?" Riza whined.

"Nothing we can't deal. I'll take care of them if they become an issue."

The cockiness from Jack didn't help Crane's anxiety settle down. It awfully reflected the bad choices he made, less crass and more willing.

"Hmph."

He didn't care if the brunette heard that or the slow steering of her concealed eyes to him. The gaze saying, "you doubt me?".

"Got something to say, Freakoid?"

Plenty. "It's a bunch of crazy people. Not worth anyone's time."

"Sounds like you know from experience. Like to share with the class?"

He trudged a step back, the animalistic gaze averted away. This was another pry between the lines, and this time, he was careful. A low scoff slipped out from the Hunter.

"Look. Whoever they are, they can't be good. Best plan is to ignore them and do your pet project," Kyle stated firmly. "That's high priority, right?"

"He is right," softly spoke Riza.

"And a zombie's saying that," Ender exclaimed the surrealism behind that point. The futility and truth of those words came out from the mouth of a man who died and came back.

"I agree with you there. But they're my problem when it becomes everyone's problem." Again, so nonchalant for Jack to swing out a response like that. Unbreakable, resistant, an idol of hope.

Easy for her to fall by her own pride and cause. Just like him.

In their previous conversations, he would stop there - let her do whatever she pleased. But the more push this woman gave, the more it tested his patience. Stop it, he thought to himself. You're only human and you could only go so far.

It was just an itch but the irritation was enough for him to speak up.

"Sure. And I'm the one who's gonna drag your sorry ass out when things get too rough for you."

"Yet it's been the other way around for you," she countered coolly, truthfully. "I appreciate the concern but you are my client. Let me take care of the bulk work while you worry about yourself."

"I told you. You can't do everything on your own."

"Heh," Jack laughed, half out of amusement and half of a reflection that said, "stop underestimating me, mate". "Do you know who you're talking to? I'm Mad Jack. There's nothing I can't handle, not even this outbreak."

Mad. He couldn't disagree but for a different reason. "Yeah. You keep telling yourself that."

The air was uncomfortable between the two older adults while Ender and Riza kept quiet with gawking eyes, left and right. One side was going to give in, whether to reason or to pride but it was clear that neither would. Again, it wasn't getting through to her. And again, he was too stubborn to let it go.

Both sides ended with huffed sighs.

"Any more info?" The strain was tiny, snaking right out of Jack's voice, regardless the playful smile she kept shining to her compadres.

"Those are the major spots," Ender said and slipped their hands in pockets - better they'd stay out of their little quarrel.

"Actually. There _is_ the Plaza."

"You do know that manager's a nutjob, right?"

"And who isn't? Besides, the more work, the better for us." With that argument won, Riza turned back to Jack. "Nothing to do with your 'creepy stuff' but the Plaza was hit by the blackout too. They could use some help."

"And probably everyone else in this city," Ender concluded. "Any dawdler you help out might have info about those voices and symbols we don't know about."

"I plan to do that." More information was golden to Jack. She could never one to turn a blind eye from it, before and during the outbreak - as long as she'd get something in return. And words were a treasure to her.

"Now it's our turn." The childish inflection from the young female runner was something to warrant for, slapping the older woman's smile right off. She didn't like the sound of it, or knew where this was going.

"Alright," Jack started. "What's the proposition this time?"

"Not from you," Ender surprised her.

"From him," and Riza surprised Freakoid.

"Wait. Me?"

"Do you see anyone else? Of course, we mean you."

Crane was baffled. One moment ago, this Grad was shaking. The next, she was intrigued, her partner joining her in their scrutiny. It reminded him of something like this - working for two insufferable people before.

"We've got a job only someone with your 'caliber' can do," Ender took the lead.

"A zombie that thinks for himself. This is gonna boost our business by a huge margin," Riza hummed.

"I'm not anyone's freakshow-" he warned them.

"Oh, no. Believe me, I know what it's like to be put on display," Ender assured him, despite driving the confusion into Freakoid.

He didn't follow - first thought being this young grad couldn't possibly compare themselves to Crane's 'condition', and then the second being perhaps, it wasn't in his right to judge without knowing what sort of discrimination Ender went. A human's discrimination.

"And we're not ringmasters. We're brokers on the go," Riza swiftly rolled the conversation on. Like two actors on a stage, prepared and whimsical on their lines without any flaw.

"Ok?"

"What she means is we're like any other vendor in this outbreak. Only difference is, our inventory's more special than the average merchandise," Ender explained.

"Designed for the Ravs. Like Jack." Riza swayed a hand at the kickboxer before bringing it to Crane. "And now you."

"Ranges from top-notch weapons, rare items, powerful consumables. You need it, we get it."

"Depends on your rank though. The higher you are, the better the tier is."

"Whoa, hang on," Crane interrupted. "This is a joke, right?"

"Uh, no? Do you see anyone of us laughing?"

"You've gotta see how bad this is. I'm a monster, remember?"

"Who's having a normal conversation with us humans. I see nothing wrong there," Ender said.

He was getting a migraine from this.

"There's still the matter of me losing it," Crane again reinforced his earlier statement. "And why would I need things when I'm like...this?" He gestured to his own body.

"Well. You bleed, don't you?" Riza uttered, the once-shy confidence now balling up to full-blown spunkiness. "You're just like us. And you need our goods to stay alive."

What goods? There was nothing of interest that came to mind, anything they could offer was completely useless to a Hunter. A bandage, maybe. A molotov, he could easily scrape for a bottle. But nothing big.

"Or if not for you, then why not do it for Jack? You're particularly her Lifeline right now," Ender offered the idea.

Jack's bold mannerisms changed in a beat, the frown returning back to her cheeks. "Excuse me. He's not my Lifeline. He's a Hunter-"

"Nuh-uh," Riza cut her short. "If he's a Rav, then he's gotten be someone's Lifeline. That's the rules. Nobody goes out at night without a partner."

"And you signed up to be a Rav too. You gotta follow them like everyone else," Ender shuffled into the conversation.

"Of course. And sometimes, rules have to be broken," Jack tried to counter. "Bones' project didn't need more than one working on it."

"No but there should be someone looking out for the worker. You left our base before anyone could vouch being your Lifeline."

"Nobody should be," the kickboxer whipped out the remark. "I'm a special case, remember?"

"Special case? More like a bad choice."

The confident smirk zipped straight down to a disapproving frown at Freakoid's comeback. Back to the "hot potato" talk.

"It's the only choice, mate. I already told you: nobody from the Ravs is fit and capable to do this."

"But you can? You're biting off more than you can chew."

"Bloody brilliant, coming from the Hunter in front of us."

"At least I don't go charging off without discussing a plan. Look what happened earlier."

"We were against the clock. We had to adapt under peer pressure, mate. Something you don't really do much. You're awfully too cautious."

"And you're too ballistic. You literally went up front to three gunners!"

"Someone had to bloody well take them down. Guns are too much trouble for what they're worth."

"Now I get why Asem was willing to let Shy Guy join us." Riza's whisper was soft as she jabbed a thumb at Freakoid. But not soft enough that the two older grown-ups wouldn't hear.

"Yup. He's the only one that can keep up with Jack," Ender mumbled.

"What does that mean?" The two younger adults wheeled back, noting the professional fighter's darkened gaze. Their postures stiffened but they weren't too heinous for thinking aloud in front of their senior.

"Nothing," Ender droned. It was interesting: they had never seen anyone try to headbutt Mad Jack in a normal-sounding conversation. They and everyone knew the reputation she had, the fighter who couldn't turn away from a fight. What put the icing on the cake was her opponent, a man succumbed to the virus and risen back up as a talking infected.

However, they had seen this kind of banter. So they stepped in before it kept going.

"Look," their sincerity directed Crane's attention on themselves. "You're turned. There's no denying that. And anyone will want to kill you. So that means you need our help more than ever."

"And we are still staying. Yeah, you're scary," Riza confessed. "But we're not leaving."

"What do you have to lose?"

A lot, Crane thought quietly. Another life done by him and more blood on his hands, with or without control.

"You might as well go along with it, Freakoid," Jack's explanation slipped into the discussion. "These two are stubborn when it comes to their business but their hearts are in the right place. Deals are too good either."

"Geez. Thanks for the vote of confidence," Ender uttered lively.

"But she is right," Riza interrupted and wheeled back to Crane. "We'll make it worth your wild."

"Hm," Crane huffed. Alright, so it was like working with Spike. "And, what...you two are ok working with...someone like me?"

He was prepared to leave at anytime - even ten minutes into the conversation, if it wasn't Jack. The answer was and should be clear-cut: he was a danger. He could potentially lose his mind in a second and kill either one of them without knowing.

Nevertheless, Riza and Ender didn't budge from their spot. They exchanged glances at each other, then at Jack before back to him.

"You've been sticking around with Jack till now. That's good enough for us," Riza voiced for the both of them.

It left Crane stunned. He glanced back and forth between the two, waiting for them to take it back. But nothing in their actions showed it. Maybe it really was true: it was because of Jack's infectious personality that influenced these two terribly.

However, that didn't mean he should turn away to a proposal. He was never the kind of person to call it quits… An idiot, but he was never one to go back against his word. So Crane heaved out a sigh and shook off his gripe.

"Ok," he replied back. "What do you have in mind?"

Riza's coy smile stretched wide and Crane could feel Ender's grin too. The Hunter didn't like that exchange but there was no taking back - Ender had spoken out carefreely.

"Alright, Freakoid. Let's get you started."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello all! I've finally revamped this chapter and it's one I feel was difficult but proud of. The pacing this time felt reasonable to me rather than the attempts I've done in my old version and in my old one, it was more focused on Jack's secrets. Which is good but I actually wanted to tackle Crane's ordeals and his trust towards Jack down the line. It would make more sense leading down some plot ideas and how that trust is pushed. Just because they are working together doesn't mean they'd immediately be pals.

Plus, I had been trying to since earlier chapters, have Crane take more of a protagonist position. It is hard given with his "condition" but hopefully, I can roll more with him taking lead in the story. Jack will still have her moments as a secondary protagonist of course, since I'm really happy that a number of you readers enjoy her character. I'd like to find a balance on their narrations and not have one outshine the other.

Anyhow, the next chps are gonna be a little tricky because they will have to be some intermissions. Some are gonna have links to the next main chapter to build up the next part of the plot but yeah, you might have to be a bit more patient with the next ones so I hope that's alright. I do apologise it took this long to rework the chapter but I do hope you'll enjoy it!

Lastly I really wanna thank you readers, over here and in AO3. Your encouragement gives me the strength and motivation to keep on writing passionately for this story. It's one I really want to see through to the end and knowing how much it means to readers like you, that's so much more I can ask for. So thank you!


	21. Update

Notification to new/old readers: The Descent is currently going through a new revamp in plot points, character interactions and more - including chapters being combined together instead of originally two or three. This fic will still continue on so there is no haitus at all. If you would be so kind, please read the updated pilot and chapter 1 to 4 for a new taste in the Descent. Any chapter that starts with a chapter summary and ends with a date(s) are the revamped versions so you will see old chapters that have some inconsistencies and lack of connection to the new ones. Please be patient until they've been updated (this update will notify which chapters are done).

Enjoy.


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